I And Me

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It's amazing how much I can get done if I divide everything into small areas. My therapist has been telling me to divide my messes (and yes, I have a lot of them) into small areas by taking a picture frame and laying it down in an area. Work on that area and then, sit back, take a break, drink a glass of iced tea or something, and feel happy and proud of what I've done.

Well today, I decided to take her advice but not quite. I didn't put a picture frame down, but I divided two parts of my kitchen, into three areas. The first is a 9 foot counter that stores my microwave and lots of other stuff, and is a collector of mail, ads, anything that I happen to have in my hands that I want to get rid of, but don't want to trash, yet. So...

That is picture one and two, before.

Part of My Mess

My Mess Continues

I divided this counter into two parts and started cleaning. It was amazing how easy it turned out to be. Hell, I even managed to get my microwave cleaned, inside and out, which, sadly, it's needed for way too long. This counter holds my microwave, as said, my toaster oven, my dehydrator, a lamp, the food processor and my old mixer, it also used to hold my meat slicer, a fan, and trash. Now it is down to less trash, it still has a lamp, microwave, dehydrator, microwave, food processor, and the old mixer, but neat and clean without the trash, the meat slicer is now in a place out of the way but where I can get it if I need it.

Admittedly there is still a lot more to do in the kitchen, like the bookcase, you'll see those in another photo, and the half wall behind the counter, and of course the ledge behind my regular counters, which I am not ready to show you in photographs.

See pictures three and four.

Part 1 of a Clean Counter

Part 2 of a Clean Counter

The next task I tackled was my work table. I have a lovely stainless steal work table where I keep my heavy duty Kitchen Aid Mixer, my supplies for dog treats, those are under it, my cookie sheets, herbs, spices, flour and other goodies. I also keep my marble rolling pin and some cookie cutters on the table. The first picture shows the table top with all types of things on it, including my second food dehydrator, books, mail, tea, light bulbs, my mixer, and loose things that needed a place to go.

See the next picture, which is hard to see because of all the stuff behind the table, mostly my bookshelves that have my cookbooks, supplies, including a rack for some of my cookie cutters (I have a rather large collection which seems to keep growing), and lots of things besides books. But most of the books there are my cook books and my antique books, why they're there is a long story for another day.

Work Table Mess

As you can possibly see, it is a mess, and the stuff behind it makes it messier. It was dusty, had flour dust on it and generally was unusable if I got an order for dog treats, unlikely right now, but also another story.

The next story shows the table, still in front of the messy bookshelves, the bottom shelves look the same and messy but are now organized but the top is clean. It has three new canisters to hold, you never guess so I'll tell you, small cookie cutters. They are perfect, I can add the smaller cutters by type, and there are types, like Valentines day, Easter, Tea Pots, Animals, that sort of thing. So now I can put some of the smaller ones in one place, at least some of them.

All of this took me surprisingly about two hours, but you may remember I have some physical limitations, the good news is that I can work from my wheeled chair, and move around that way. My work table is on wheels so I can move it wherever I need to so I can get behind it to do some cleaning, sorting, and organizing.

Why am I writing this? You might ask, well simple. I did something productive today, it achieved something that has been making me crazy for weeks, but I haven't had the energy to get to. My house keeper helpers, who I lost never did even try to clean either of these two surfaces, but now they are done and I hope and plan to keep them that way.

My Work Table Cleaned

I'm incredible proud of myself, and I'm proud of the fact that I did this. Another thing that helped me get this done was a strange happening that started last Thursday. I've had aides for the last 10 years, because I need them. I have them for 36 hours a week, one aid for 30 hours, he takes me to appointments, helps with the really heavy work, keeps the yard clean, that sort of thing, the other has the simple task of cleaning the house and doing the laundry, at least some of it. It isn't that hard of a task if you are completely mobile and capable of using a vacuum, dust cloth, and a mop, but for some reason this past year I've had trouble keeping a house keeper.

So lately I've changed the way this is done, my aides now get a much larger salary, how this is done is not important, but it is with the help of the state that I pay my aides. Anyway, last Thursday a lady who had been my six hour aide called and asked if I needed someone for those hours. Now this lady did a good job but the way she quit was not all that appealing to me, she was supposed to work two more days, because she owed me the time, she promised to come in on the following Monday, but did not.

This made me more than a little unhappy, so when she called on Thursday I had my doubts about giving her the six hours that my other aide had picked up. But since he's been working for me for 36 hours and another job for anything from 24 to 30, I told her I'd ask if he'd be willing to give up the six hours. I did this he was. It took me until Sunday to reach her but I finally did and we arranged for her to come in today and do the hire package so she could start either this week or the beginning of the next.

I ask you, if you called someone and asked for a job, made an appointment for a specific time and had essentially been hired, except for the paperwork, would show up for the job. She didn't. I'd arranged for her to come in, at her convenience, at 11:00 this morning, I was up, and waiting, paperwork ready for her, and she never came, she didn't call, she didn't even indicate that she was no longer interested. Amazing! But I also have to thank her, for now Jerry will continue to get his 36 hours which will be better pay for him, and I can now push myself to do more around the house, with Jerry's help.

Leaving this rambling post, I'll leave you with one small reminder, just last week I was so depressed I was almost ready to give up. This week, because of a change in medications, and tweaking of the meds, I'm able to get out of bed and actually work around my house and feel good about it. So if I can be helped so can other people. Almost undoubtedly one of these days I'll need a medication change, or dosage change, but it won't be so hard, it should be easier to tweak my medications from now on because in addition to a change in the drugs for my depression, I've gotten a new pain medication which is actually helping me stay more or less pain free, OK not pain free but at levels that I can ignore the pain, almost completely. Yeah! For new pain medication and tweaked drugs.

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July 1st 2009 @ 02:23

Posted By: Janice M Cali - Category: No Category

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Amazingly Weird!

Colt, Happy As I Am

Today is an amazingly weird day in more ways than one. It is 75 degrees out, at noon, unusual because of the time of year. Last week everyday, almost, was over 100 degrees, we even broke records that were over 100 years old. I hate hot, really hot weather, it makes me ill, physically, especially if it's humid to boot. You probably know that in the winter, up north, they figure wind chill, meaning they calculate the temperatures by what the ambient temperature is and what the wind makes it. Well down here, in the south and other parts of the country where it gets hot and humid we calculate the temperature by the ambient temperature with the humidity and that gives you the equivalent of the wind chill, in reverse.

So, calculate 50% humidity with 102 degrees and you get a heat index of something like 120 (OK, I not absolutely sure of those figures, but it's something like that. So it's not a wonderful feeling. Push the humidity up over 80% and you can't breath, you feel like you're trying to breath under water, and not succeeding.

So, today is 75 degrees, raining, and lovely even if it is cloudy. Unfortunately, it will stop raining, the clouds will clear away it will get hot and it will be so humid that we can hardly stand it, well I will hardly be able to stand it.

Enough griping. I woke up this morning with a phone call, but refused to get up yet, I wasn't ready to wake up, I wanted a few more minutes, or an hour, of sleep. Then the phone rang again, and it was over, I got up, grumpy, and a little angry at being rousted out before I was ready. I was still tired, since I'd gotten to sleep late, very late, ok, I admit that's not unusual but I can usually manage to get enough sleep to make up for it.

So, here I am grumpy, fixing a cup of coffee and the damned phone rings again, but it's one of my favorite people, my nurse, saying she's on her way, this is when she'd expected to be late, so my day brightens. I get my coffee, laptop, and plant myself in front of the TV to watch PBS, I love PBS but that's another story. Sewing shows are on, not my favorites, so I start reading my emails and find that some friends have been approved for another greyhound (adoption, and you have to qualify), and they will be getting Doug (the greyhound) in about a week, maybe less. I'm as happy as if I were adopting him myself.

Then I read my daily blogs on Orble, and thank you all for your wonderful writing, I may not comment on each one, but I do comment frequently. So, you can know that I appreciate your writing. If I don't comment, I'll start, if you don't think I'm reading your blog, let me know, I'll go hunt you up.

Can you tell that I'm feeling better? Grumpy as I was this morning, I was still emotionally stable, well as stable as I ever am, which can be very. My emotions aren't going up and down like they have been for the past six or more months, they are staying relatively stable. I'm feeling better, I don't feel like I'm being tugged in every direction, emotionally speaking. This is cause for celebration, so everyone, I'm going to celebrate a bunch, I'm going to write more, get the house cleaned, some, and packed up, more, and I'm going to be happy. I'm going to enjoy being happy and not feeling depressed.

Don't you all feel it's about time that I should let myself enjoy my feelings of being happy instead of waiting for the next down? I do! I see my doctor, psychiatrist, on Wednesday, and for a change I'll be able to report that things are going swimmingly. That will be such a good thing.

My joy is that my newest medications are working, finally. I think I'll leave this and go write a food column. I made a strange but surprisingly tasty potato salad yesterday and I think I'll share the recipe with everyone. Why not, I like it, maybe they will too.

So, I'll be seeing you tomorrow, probably, and I'll report on how my Monday went and on how Tuesday is going. One of the writers I follow had a great blog about her town today, maybe I'll write about mine, it's much smaller, doesn't reside on a river, but it has beautiful country everywhere. So...

Tomorrow, y'all.

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June 29th 2009 @ 18:50

Posted By: Janice M Cali - Category: No Category

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Amazing!

Life Actually Continues

I'm Happy! Really!

I can't believe it, since I last wrote that I had a good day, I've had two more (I think it's two). With the exception of my DSL being down all day yesterday, well into the evening, things are going quite happily. Oh, I've had my downs, but they have been few, and not too bad. Mostly I've been creative.

Can you believe that I wrote another complete story in just a day and a half? I can't. And I'm still working on the one that's going to be longer. But somehow a few sentences pop into my head, the start of a story, and I have to write it.

The one I wrote yesterday, and the night before, started out as I'd envisioned it, but as I wrote it, it seemed to take on a life of it's own. I'd envisioned an woman, somewhere around my age, sitting in front of a window watching life pass her by and then deciding that she wasn't all that old, that it was time to leave her small town and get out and live. And she did. But that isn't how it happened at all. Now I ask you is that right? A story taking over my brain and fingers and writing itself? I think not, but what can I do? Don't know, we'll just have to wait and see what happens when I try to write another one.

So, I'm feeling fairly balanced, not too deeply in a depression and not manic, mostly as I said balanced, which is good, I think. Although I do have to admit that I kind of like manic. I get so much done, cleaning (sort of), sorting through stuff, designing how my house should look, you know the small things, but big at the same time. And I can do all these things so fast. I can get a bunch of stuff packed in nothing flat, or so it seems, and I can shove stuff around, with some help, and have a room looking more or less as I'd planned. Sometimes I do have to change the look but at least I get a change so I can sit and plan more changes.

It is amazing how much a manic mood can help me achieve, although sometimes, I do have to admit, even though I'm manic my body doesn't want or can't keep up with the energy. That bugs the hell out of me, I so wish my body would keep up with my mind, but somehow I've aged, gotten broken some, and my mind of 30 lives in a body that's been beaten up, broken down, and is now 63, but just the body, I always remember just the body has aged, my mind hasn't, it's gained knowledge, experience and a lot of unwanted shit, but all in all, the brain/mind is doing surprisingly well age wise. I think I will always be a 30 year old kid, refusing to grow up, except in the ways of the world, those I know, might dislike most of them, but I know them, and if I want, or must, can usually deal with them.

I sure hope you notice the difference in that last paragraph to the ones I write when I'm in the troughs of a depression, it is so amazing to me what I can say and believe when I'm feeling like me instead of that person I am when I'm too depressed to face life, any life.

Wow, am I happy that things are changing or what?

Later gator (Did I really say that? Amazing)

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June 28th 2009 @ 20:28

Posted By: Janice M Cali - Category: No Category

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Sanity Strikes!

Happiness is a Warm Pillow

Good News! Sanity appears to be rearing it's not so ugly head, finally.

Hey, I know my blogs here have been pretty down lately, but today I have good news. First, I did something today. I signed up for an on line job thingy, it is supposed to help employers find employees that are virtual assistants, that means that you can work from home, which is a good thing, since I can't work any place else.

Then, you aren't going to believe this, I decided to go out to the Friday Wind-down at the local pizza and beer place, and I did! But the best news, I put on my good pants, the black ones I save for when I'm feeling exceptionally fat, and know that things too tight will irritate the hell out of me, well they almost fell off, and I've been eating like a pig all week. But I'm taking my medication regularly, and one of them is supposed to help you lose weight, as a side effect. Boy howdy, is it doing that. I've lost over 20 pounds since January, which may not seem like a lot to you, but to me it is great, I've lost almost all that I had gained and I now believe that I'll keep going down. One of the good things, I've been drinking lots of fluids because the pills also give me dry mouth and thirst like crazy and the more I drink the more I flush the toxins out of my body and the more I flush the fats, and bad things too! So, it's all coming together, at least for today.

I didn't get as much done as I'd hoped but I did get the kitchen cleaned up, some, not all the counter tops but the sink, dishes, etc. are all handled. And Roux's food is in her container in the fridge, with the stuff I started for me, and her extra one in the freezer. So I cooked, but that was yesterday.

On top of all this great news, I've come up with the idea for another story, I only know how it starts, and if you read my stuff you know that it's kind of dark, well really dark sometimes, and this one starts that way, and might end that way, I don't know for sure, but we'll have to see. I hope to have it done in a day or two. And I'm working on another one that might be too long to post on my writing blog () for those of you who don't know about that one yet.

Now, I'm not going to stay here too long or I might start writing negative stuff, and I don't want to do that either. One, last thing, I also worked on the book I'm editing for greyhound rescue today, got a lot of the submissions by greyhound owners into the site where they will be put together. I'm going to get them all in this week, I hope, so I can start doing the hard job, editing. Many of them I wrote too, and editing my own work is a bitch and a half, because I know what I meant to say but sometimes I read what I didn't write but what I meant, thought, I wrote. Confusing and difficult.

So, on all those happy notes, I wish you all a great Weekend, a wonderful next week, and I'll be back. Oh, if you follow my blog FoodMage(that would be Your text goes here), I'll be posting something there soon too.

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June 27th 2009 @ 04:29

Posted By: Janice M Cali - Category: No Category

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Well Damn, or something!

Cuddles Count

Here it is Thursday already and I've been meaning to write something for this page all week.

Monday I thought, “Wow! I can post a really happy, upbeat post. Brag about how the new medications are working and doing a great job.”

Tuesday, was busy writing all day, but not for this blog, was writing fiction. I'd overdone it on Monday, physically, so Tuesday I had to take it easy, not do too much around the house, but I was still upbeat, full of excessive energy, just like Monday.

Wednesday, my mood is starting to take a down turn, not as upbeat, not as much energy, a headache in the morning, but it went away fast with pain pills and getting up. Didn't get much done, spent too much money, way too much money, found an auction site that costs to much and played on the gaming site I play on sometimes, way too often really.

Now we reach Thursday, that would be today, and my mood is going down again. These ups and downs are starting to wear me down. I woke up, early for me, as has been happening lately with the change in medications, but I had a migraine, again. This time the pain pills didn't help, I had to go back to bed and hoped the pills would work, somehow, but they didn't. At 11:00 in the morning I had to take more and a different type, so I did, and they helped, some. Then the other pains could rear their ugly heads, fibromyalgia and arthritis pain kicked in and made everything even worse. This always happens when I start going down, they are related. Stress, pain, all go hand in hand, remember that those of you who have sudden or chronic pain, stress and depression are mitigating factors in pain, they help control how much and how often you feel your pains, look for correlations.

I love the energy that I have when I'm feeling up, when the medication is working and when I can get things done. Writing, abet the story I wrote was more than a little depressing, at least to some, I loved writing it, it just flowed, it was fun to write and post to see who would read it. Today, I can hardly write this blog, it is draining to try to figure out what to put down on the paper (figuratively), the words are hard to come by, they don't flow freely with little conscious effort on my part as they did on Tuesday.

Soon, very soon, I will find a solution to these ups and downs, if I'm becoming bipolar, then let me have the ups more than the downs. Let the creativity come flowing and not the complete halts. Life can be so tiring sometimes. I'd love to crawl under my bed and stay there, forever, sometimes.

If I didn't have my Roux (dog for those of you who don't know) and my family, sister, parents, I don't know if I'd bother to continue this life. Wow! Did I just say that? I thought I was just a little down, now I realize I'm a lot down, and I'm having that new feeling I get when like this. It simulates TIAs and is again rearing its individually ugly head; across the side of my face, down my neck, into the side of my mouth, what a miserable feeling and something I have learned comes with stress and fear.

My statement that started the last paragraph, that's when these feelings started. Are they feelings of fear at my statement, or feelings of fulfillment of my statement? What a strange question. I wish I had an answer. I wish I could have made the effort to write the post I wanted to on Monday, it would have been so up, so encouraging and this one, well not so much. But I can tell you all that I will find a way to fight my way back.

You see there is one thing I know about myself, or hope I know about myself. I'm a survivor, it's the one thing I do so very, very well, survive, even when I don't want to, even when survival isn't something I really want. Now that's a stupid statement, if I didn't want survival than I wouldn't survive. I'm one of the strongest people on the face of this earth, no I'm not bragging, this is a fact, and in that statement, I don't mean physically, hell a child of 10 could beat me at arm wrestling, and not mentally in the sense of mental wellness, but inside of me, deep inside of me, is a person who will never, ever be able to quit, that person will fight the outside person until one of them wins. The strongest person in the world, will win, that's the survivor, the other, outside person, will always lose because the outside person isn't strong, but weak, unwilling to fight for survival, but deep inside of her is the “me” that will not allow anything but fighting, will not allow the outside, weak person to give up, not for long, not forever, not completely.

Somehow I suspect that even if I decided to take those pills, had no reason to keep going on, that person who is curious, knowledgeable, talented, smart, and, most importantly, unwilling to quit, will stop my hand, will not allow me to do the, to her, unthinkable. Don't misunderstand, I don't have multiple personality disorder, I don't have schizophrenia, I have chronic depression, possibly going bipolar, with panic disorder, anxiety disorder, those I have, but I have two parts of myself, we all do, the one that knows that there is a problem with our minds, with the way they work and that there is a part of my mind that is healthy, that keeps the illnesses from taking hold for good.

Physiologically my brain is one of the healthiest my neurologist has ever seen, and I told her she should see it from inside. This brought the expected laugh, but I wonder, if my physical brain is healthy as a young one, then why do I have these chemical imbalances? Why do I have these problems with depression, anxiety, panic, manic episodes? Do they not indicate that there is something wrong physically as well as mentally? The simple, but probably not accurate answer, is that a MRI and MRA can't measure chemicals, and they can't to my knowledge, and evidentially, chemical imbalances don't cause physical changes to the brain's structures. How very strange, you'd think they would.

I suspect that I could ramble about this for a while yet, but I need something for the pain, physical, and something for the numbness from panic and I need to look deeply, more deeply into the reasons for this crash today, why today? Why do I suddenly feel like life is to tiring to bother? I need to go be by myself and think. I might be back later, if I am you'll know.

Later all, have a better one, remember, happiness can be yours even if it requires a struggle, and even if that struggle is a long and painful one.

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June 25th 2009 @ 21:21

Posted By: Janice M Cali - Category: No Category

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Failure to Thrive

Zeus, Couldn't Thrive

Note: Be prepared for a stream of consciousness, it happens.

Failure to Thrive is a term used by Psychologists, Psychiatrists and other professionals in the mental health business. It is a term used to describe a person who isn't thriving, i.e., has given up the will to live but isn't ready or is willing to kill themselves.

That was me, is me, sometimes. Why? If I knew that I wouldn't crawl into my bed and quit life. I'd be up and doing things that I love, whatever they are, and I'd always be busy, like I once was. What happened this year to put me in bed and give up the active will to live? I can actually answer that, somewhat.

The first thing that happened was the realization that my greyhound was not going to live much longer, six months, a year if I was lucky; after that, the realization that I had spent myself into a financial hole that I will probably not be able to dig out of without selling my home, even though I want to sell it, having to sell it is another thing entirely; third, my parents are ailing, failing would be a good description and I feel guilt that I don't see them often enough, that seeing them sends me into a deep depression that can last for weeks; that I am not and never will be the healthy, beautiful, vibrant woman I once was, and finally that I would always have a physical handicap that makes walking difficult without a cane, that the physical problems that I have, arthritis, fibromyalgia, migraines, unrelenting pain, chronic depression, will never go away, that I will have to live with these things for the rest of my life. The fear that I will give up like my father has, that I'll be unable to walk, like my mother, that I will be incapable taking care of myself. These are all of the things that put me in my bed for almost six months.

Oh, I had times when I was up and capable of functioning, but they were rare and only after a medication adjustment, or change. Now I'm out of bed again, and somewhat functional, why, medications, again. We have changed some, added some, adjusted doses on other, and I can get out of bed and do some things around the house. I can't drive more then two miles, thanks to the idiot who tried to run me off the road, but I can somewhat function. What do I fear now? That the medications will stop functioning again and I'll be right back where I was six months ago.

Zeus, was a special dog, his death was so expected and unexpected, both at the same time. I knew I would lose him, but when I did it was so sudden and so unexpected, I thought I had more time to say good bye to him. But I didn't and now my fears center around my Roux, she will be 10 in October, and she is a large dog, well not as big as Zeus, but not as long live as greyhounds, so how long do I have with her? My animals are one of the things that make me live. Losing them is so diminishing, so painful, I take so much longer to get over the loss, especially when they aren't yet old enough to die, as with Zeus.

And my parents. Yes, they are elderly and I think my father is ready to die, I think he has given up and is now almost anxiously awaiting death. Why do I say this? Fairly simple you see my parents have been married almost 66 years, they have been devoted to each other, loved each other for all those years, but two weeks ago, my father said something that was shocking to me, and totally unexpected and uncharacteristic, he said, “I'm so tired of her,” referring to my mother.

Mom is so afraid that my father is going to die before her, that she has taken to trying to control everything he does, every little thing. She nags at him, incessantly almost, something she has never done so overtly. Mom wasn't a nag, but she was a controlling person but she was supportive of my father. Now she tells him everything, do this, do that, don't do that. She's killing him inadvertently, because she's taking away what little fight and will to live that he has left.

Mom, doesn't realize what she's doing, part of it is that she doesn't hear well, she won't wear her hearing aides because they are uncomfortable, but she refuses to have them adjusted, she is unwilling to try to wear them. Even though we are arranging a speech therapist for her, who will show her how to use her hearing aides, she is unwilling to try. Then there is the pain she's always in, the same type I'm in, with the exception that she's lived with it since she was in her 30's, that over 50 years and believe me that's a long time to live with unending pain.

Up until about seven years ago she was still functionally able to move, do things for herself, but over the past seven years this has been slowly eroding to the point that now she can barely do anything for herself. She has to have someone come in seven days a week to help her get dressed, when she showers she has to have someone help her get there and get out. She can no longer cook, she can't even make coffee, imagine a woman who always did everything for herself and her family, who dedicated her life to her husband and children but now needs to be taken care of and all she can do for her family is nag her husband into disliking being in her presence.

My parents are rarely apart. They are apart when one goes to get the mail, when my father goes to the dining room to pick up their dinner or when one of them has a doctors appointment or when my sister or I take one or both of them to the store and they go their different ways. This means that they spend the better part of 24 hours a day, seven days a week together, and this is more than most people can stand, and it is finally getting to them, at least to my father.

So, one wonders why I fail to thrive? I can't do a damn thing to help my parents, I can't make their life better, I can't help them get out and away from each other, because they are physically incapable of getting out much and I'm physically incapable of helping them in and out of the car, and now I'm incapable of driving to the town they live in because of an idiot last week.

One of the things I want, would like, is for my parents to move closer to my sister and me. There is a very good nursing home (if such is really possible) just up the road, I know the head of nursing, I know the therapist that goes there once a week, and I know that if one or the other of us (my sister or I) drops in unexpectedly, daily, then they will have great care. But they aren't ready, or so they think.

What does all this mean to me? It means that my depression deepens, my fears heighten, and I fail to thrive without extreme measures of medications and therapy.

Now, those of you out there who are also failing to thrive, I have a word or two, you know me, to say directly to you, if you're reading, keep struggling, fight, do whatever it takes to find whatever it is that will help you find a reason to live. Something, anything, that will help you find a real reason to live, and continue to live. If it is a person, a pet, a cause, whatever, find that reason, make that search your life's work if necessary, it's what I'm doing.

I know there is a passion out there that will make my life worth living, and I'll keep trying new things until I find it. Whatever it is, whether or not I'm physically capable of doing whatever it is, I'll find a way. I want you to do the same. Find your reason to live, continue to live. There is a 63 year old, slightly overweight, and screwed up lady who cares, even if she doesn't know you. I may not be able to love in the conventional means, but I can care, and I do care. I care if you are alive, for every unnecessary and untimely death is a loss to me, to the planet and to God. Remember there is a reason we are all here, we may not know what that reason is, we may never know but to end our lives early, before they are finished is to diminish this world and its needs. It diminishes me, you and all those who know, knew and will come to know you.

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June 21st 2009 @ 01:42

Posted By: Janice M Cali - Category: No Category

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PTSD and Crazy Drivers

PTSD Brain

This week has been disturbing, more than odd, and very upsetting. It started with my usual depression but Monday it was augmented by my back, which as I posted in an earlier blog was very bad this week. Tuesday wasn't any better although I did manage to get some things done around the house with Jerry's help, not much but some. Then the weirdness started on Wednesday.

Wednesday I went to see my shrink, a very good doctor and a very concerned one. It helps a lot that I'm one of his favorite patients, yes, I'm bragging but if it helps me, it's all right. Anyway, my antidepressants haven't been doing much good lately, and we'd added a second to help, it wasn't. So after about 30 minutes with him we decided on a course of action. We would up the new antidepressant, change the was I take my amphetamine which I take for both ADD and to help me get out of bed in the morning, and we would change my dose of Valium. We aren't doing it all at once, we are changing one thing at a time, first the amphetamine, then the antidepressant, then the Valium. Or maybe we changed the Valium at the same time, my nurse knows but I don't.

Now if you are getting the idea that I take a lot of drugs, you're right, I do, but none are taken without a reason, even if I would kill to get rid of some of them, well maybe not kill but certainly go to extremes. But you see here's the catch, I don't take one drug that I don't need. I do take some that aren't as helpful as I'd like but if they don't help they will be removed or changed.

Depression is an insidious disease, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, it is a disease. It can be proven that it is a chemical imbalance in the brain, and that imbalance can be very difficult to rectify. In my case it is proving more and more difficult as time goes past. At first it was easy, now not so easy, even difficult.

My doctor wants me to consider the possibility of Electric Shock Therapy. I have to tell you that I have had a horror of this since I was a teenager and saw the effects of it on some people who were hospitalized with me for a short time. I was horrified by the confusion, disorientation and other effects that I saw in these people, people with whom I'd been interacting for several days and had come to know as bright and focused people. Then I read about Hemingway, and his experiences with it and the fact that his suicide was directly related to these treatments. It seems that it took away his creativity, and I don't have much but what little I do have I want to keep. We'll come back to EST later, but let's move on...

Thursday I had to drive to Texarkana to see my neurologist. A few weeks ago I'd had some symptoms of TIAs (Transient Ischemic Attack) which is basically a mini stoke. I'd had numbness on one side of my face, my eye was droopy and difficult to focus, and my lip tingled and hurt somewhat. My neurologist assured me that a TIA does not come with pain, which was a relief, but she decided that a brain scan would be a good idea anyway since it had been five years since my last one and I'm known to be a klutz and hit my head more that rarely. So, a week later a brain scan, also known as an MRI or in this case a MRA, which means they used contrasting dye to show arteries and veins, to see if there were any problem. The really good news is that on Thursday I learned that my brain is very normal, something rare in a person over 50, according to my doctor, and that I have some closing of a couple of arteries, but nothing significant, and that one artery in my neck shows a slight bulge but we will check that in six months, and it is nothing to worry about.

So, why do I mention this? It's the driving part. As some of you may know from other blogs, I don't really like driving distances by myself. I don't mind driving if someone is with me, but alone, not so much, especially if I have to drive any distance and Texarkana is about 55 miles from home and I was running late. Not a good combination. Plus the weather had been bad and I was worried about that. Since there was no one to go with me I attempted the drive by myself, which I've done before, even if I haven't enjoyed it. Usually I take my dog, Roux, with me, but since I was going to a doctor's office I couldn't, I won't leave her in the car in any weather and it wasn't that cool on Thursday anyway, so no Roux.

I was about 20 minutes out when there was a small traffic tangle at one of the bridges that the highway crosses, there were several cars in front of me and quite a few behind. We were all doing about the speed limit, which was 70, when we came up to come men putting out construction ahead signs, this slowed most of us down. Previously I'd noticed a white van, quite a ways behind me but gaining rapidly, I'd figured that with my speed being 72 mph and the rate she (it turned out) was gaining, she was doing at least 85 mph, but as she was quite a ways behind I didn't consider her in what was occurring ahead of me. Suddenly the car in front of me, without slowing down, signaled and rapidly changed lanes, that's when I realized that there was a pickup truck in front of him towing a boat that was doing all of about 35 mph, I too signaled, looked in my mirrors, and glanced over my shoulder, and started to switch lanes, as I was doing so, I check my side mirror again, and there was that white van right on my bumper. Needless to say I gunned my car, which was a big V8, with loads of pick up when already cruising, and got out of the way. As soon as I was past the pickup I pulled over to the right lane and wondered how that van had caught up so fast. It had been in my blind spot, and as I switched lanes it became visible. Shaken, I slowed back to the speed limit and kept on driving, not happy but at least out of danger, or so I thought.

This idiot girl, for she was obviously young, waited, staying on my tail, but in the other lane, pulling up and dropping back, usually staying in my blind spot, but letting me know she was there. I don't like drivers who think playing games at high speed is a good thing, or even a good way to make a point, but that's what she did, then suddenly on a curve, she's beside me and deliberately drifting in my lane, again she was not there then there. Fortunately I had lots of shoulder to pull into, and glanced over at the van, there was this young girl, sipping a drink, looking at me, one hand on her steering wheel, with a “got you back” look on her face. Here was this young, stupid child, who thought forcing me off the road was a good idea, and all because I'd inadvertently cut her off, but hadn't even caused her to touch her brakes. Now, I readily admit, I had obviously caused her concern, if not fright, but playing games at 70 miles an hour is just plain stupid, and to me, who already had one idiot cause me to be hospitalized for three months and spend another six months in a nursing home, it was inexcusable. If I could have, I would have followed her to her destination and asked her what she thought she'd proven and why she felt it necessary to prove anything. But I didn't.

No, I continued to my appointment, saw the doctor, got the test results, and headed home. The incident apparently forgotten. Yes, the incident was apparently forgotten, but my subconscious hadn't forgotten it, I was almost half way home when I started having TIA symptoms again. The side of my face started tingling, my eye was heavy and out of focus and I was having difficulty breathing. This time I knew it for what it was, an anxiety attack, with a panic attack following. I thought I could make it home, but couldn't. I drove as far as a road side park that is was about three miles further and pulled in and parked. I lowered the windows some, reclined the seat and tried to collect myself. My heart was pounding and I couldn't get my breath. For a while I thought I'd have to call someone, anyone, to come and pick me up. But after about one half hour I was able to drive again and made it home, barely.

Understand, I did not associate the earlier incident with this, I didn't know what brought this on, but since I'm prone to both anxiety and panic attacks, I'd just figured that the stress of driving to Texarkana and back had caused the problem.

That is until today. Today if Friday, and on Fridays I see my therapist. All day I've been uncomfortable, unable to focus, and unable to get anything done including washing my hair, getting a shower, all the little things that I get done when I have to go out. But today as time to leave got closer and closer I had more and more problems, I was again having a full blown panic attack, and again, I had no idea why. I called my sister, she was out. I called a friend, she was getting ready to leave town, I called Jerry but he was at his other job. I was out of options. I called my nurse and told her what was happening and we talked, she told me to cancel my appointment with Laura so I could take my medicine. I called Laura, left a message and waited for her to call.

Finally she called, we were talking, nothing was different, my medications were the same if changed in how I take them, nothing had happened at home, my test results were good, then it came to me, the incident on the way to the doctor's yesterday. I'd forgotten it, consciously, but subconsciously, I hadn't. My subconscious was very much aware of what had happened and it had thrown me into a full blown PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) episode, something I haven't experienced in months, but boy howdy, was I going through one today. I will probably have trouble driving for a while now, it took almost five years after the drunk hit me for me to be able to do more than drive to the store, about one mile, and it will take a couple of weeks probably for me to be able to drive more than a few miles again. I'll do it faster this time, but still, these set backs are horrible and draining.

Just as I will never be able to understand why the drunk didn't pull back into his lane when he saw me coming, I will never understand what made this insane child decide that forcing me off the road was a good way to “get even” for me cutting her off. Even if I'd don't it on purpose, that would not be a sane way to deal with the situation. In this day of the cell phone why didn't she call the police if she was that shaken up? Write down my license plate number, something? I did hers. Will I turn it in? Probably not, not now. I might have if I'd known how much it was going to effect me and my reactions, but now is too late.

So, my week went from uncomfortable, to strange and bizarre, to horrendous all in five short days. From depression, to anxiety, to panic to full blown PTSD, wow, what a week. Some weeks it doesn't pay to get out of bed. Hey, maybe that's why I stay in bed so much, it's safer!

MRI Altered Image, Title: PTSD Brain Copyright 2009 Janice M. Cali

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June 13th 2009 @ 02:33

Posted By: Janice M Cali - Category: No Category

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Rotten Back

Really Bad Back!

Besides the minor and occasional emotional problem, I also have a few minor and occasional physical problems, which I may have mentioned in previous posts. Well today I'm going to bitch about having a bad back, which I do, but today it is being very viscous and nasty, very nasty.

It all started Saturday night, I was getting up to close up the house and get ready for bed, my usual routine, mostly. When I got up my I twisted just right, or wrong, depending on your point of view and my back went out, away, zonkers, warped, kaflooie, whatever term you want to use, it quit working even remotely the way it should. In short, I couldn't stand up straight, barely walk and frankly just wanted to scream. Now, I'm used to pain, I live with it day in and day out, it's part of my life and being used to it I know how to deal with it, but this pain brought back memories of the first time I ruptured a disc in my spine and that was scary. I haven't ruptured one again, I'm pretty sure, because I already have 14 discs that are not in their proper position, have lumps, bumps, and bone spurs, it's called arthritis of the spin and degenerative disc disease, in short my spine is a mess, so why shouldn't I expect a little problem now and then? Surprisingly I don't. Oh, I expect stiffness, soreness and sometimes discomfort from my spine but I don't expect it to cause the type of trouble it is now.

Normally, when something like my back causing extra pain, I go to my massage therapist and have him work on it, but since this happened on Saturday I couldn't do that, so I got out the old Biofreeze and started rubbing it in to the sore places on my back. This is not the easiest thing to do and if Jerry, my friend, had been here he would have been assigned the task but he wasn't so I had to do it. It helped some, enough that I could go with my sister on Sunday to visit my parents. Big mistake! I should have skipped the visit. They live about 55 miles away and a ride in a car, both ways, plus sitting in an uncomfortable chair while there did not help my problem at all. By the time we got home I could barely get out of the car and walking into the house was hell. That is really the only way to describe it.

I went to my wheelchair right away. I use it only rarely now, usually when a chore requires a great deal of standing in one place, which I can't do, or when I have things that require moving a lot of stuff from one place to another, since I can't walk while carrying anything. Now it usually resides in the kitchen, it makes cooking easier and less tiring, right now it is residing in my bedroom at the foot of the bed. I can crawl my way to the chair and make my way around with it. I thank God that I have it, even if it is worn to almost nothing and falling apart. One of these days I'll get it replaced with a newer, stronger model. Of course, I'd rather get a new spine but they don't make those yet, I'm waiting for that medical breakthrough.

Surprisingly my neurosurgeon doesn't feel that surgery would be appropriate at this time. I ask you, I have a minimum of 14 discs messed up, and more happening as I type and he doesn't think my back needs fixing. The fact that it is always hurting doesn't matter, use drugs to stop the pain, but here's the thing, I really don't like drugs, I'd love to get rid of most of the ones I have to take but I can't, at least not yet. Unfortunately the neurosurgeon I see is one of the best in the area and the fact that he isn't willing to do surgery on a back he doesn't feel is bad enough is probably a good thing, but right now, I'd prefer a knife in the back to lying in bed with ice packs, taking pain killers and muscle relaxants.

For now, this isn't helping my state of mind, I have things I absolutely have to do, that I've been putting off for way too long because of depression, so along comes a bum back and now I can't do those things just when I'm starting to feel like maybe doing something useful. Damn!
I told you I'd be bitching tonight and I am. I've managed to do absolutely nothing worthwhile today, except cook dinner, but even that wasn't hard, just chop a few veggies, put them with some ham on a pizza crust, premade, with sauce and cheese and stick it in the oven, 35 minutes later, dinner. Now was that hard? No, because I could do it all from my wheelchair and I had Jerry to get it out of the oven and cut it up. Not hard, and hardly productive if you think of it.

For years I was bedridden, now I'm staying in bed by choice most of the time, well not really by choice, more because I can't seem to make myself get up, but I always have the choice of getting up or not, but with my back acting up I don't have that choice, I have to stay in bed, a lot, because my back is so bad. Hopefully tomorrow it will be better and I'll be able to get something worthwhile done, it would be a nice change from what I haven't been doing lately.

Confused? Me too, but then that's my natural state lately, confused, depressed and somewhat out of sorts. New medications have been started and I don't know if they are working yet, I don't think so, I don't feel better emotionally and I'm not feeling happier, nor am I finding it easier to get my ass out of bed and do something useful, even if it's just clean one corner of my studio, pack one box of unneeded stuff. With my back being bad, I can't even consider these things and that pisses me off. I, at least, want the choice of whether or not I do these things, or what little choice my messed up mind gives me.

Well, I guess that about covers my state of being for the night. I'll most likely have something else to say tomorrow, if not there's always the day after, I see my shrink then and whoa baby should I have something to say that night!

Take care, be sane, or at least just unsane instead of insane and be as well as you can be. We all try to get to the state of wellness that is best for us. Keep fighting if that is what it takes, it is for me, and if I can fight on, so can you.

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June 9th 2009 @ 04:16

Posted By: Janice M Cali - Category: No Category

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Soul Searching & Saddness

Roux's Blue, Me Too

Thursday evening, just after finishing watching a video, Hancock, I got up to go and get some more tea (iced 'cause it's more refreshing right now), anyway, as I got to the kitchen, a walk of abut 20 feet, I suddenly realized that I hated my life. I hate what I've allowed myself to become, and how I feel, and everything else.

I've allowed myself to become almost an invalid, I spend most of my time in bed because of my depression, with bouts of mania when I rush around and do things for a few hours and exhaust myself, and crawl back into bed.

Eat, drink, bodily functions, watch movies, play games, write, check out that ridiculous site Twitter, and I've just about decided that it is a waste of time (no apologies to Twits who love it), and sometimes, I go out. I go down to one of the local restaurants, visit with the people I know, then come home. I go to doctor appointments, to my therapist, my shrink, and see my nurse twice a week, you know the one that makes sure my medications are working and that I haven't decided that life just isn't worth it anymore. She's one of the two people I'm supposed to call when I feel like this, but sometimes I just don't want to bother, whether I don't want to bother her or I don't want to be bothered I'm not sure. The other is my therapist, and I feel basically the same way, why bother her, I'll see her this week anyway and we'll talk about what isn't going on in my life, what I'm feeling, rotten, what's happening with my parents, my sister, my only remaining dog (see picture), and then why I'm so angry, where the rage comes from, as if I really had a clue.

Do I have a clue where the rage comes from? I do sometimes, most of the time, then sometimes I don't have a clue. Oh sure, I know some of it comes from the condition my parents are in, my father who gave up on life when he was diagnosed with a major heart problem, but was told there were things he could do to help improve his life, and then he sat down in his chair and decided to wait for death. I mean why fight to live, just sit there, sort of like I do, and wait for death to come knocking, trying to get better, if not well, was just going to be a waste, right? Yes, I do much the same thing, the only difference I admit that that's what I'm doing and I fight, I always fight against what I'm doing to myself, emotionally if not physically. My father is not the person I get my strong will to live from, I get it from my mother. Now there's a fighter.

My mother is riddled with arthritis, she started having problems around 35, she's now 85, imagine 50 years with arthritic pain, and very few treatments? Now that there are treatments, she's too old for most of them, and almost crippled. She can barely walk, she falls a lot, some thanks to an inept doctor who prescribes medications that make her either dizzy, or make her legs weaker, now how's that for brilliant? She has bad knees, bad hips and bad ankles so the doctor prescribes medications that make her muscles weak. Right, that's the thing to do, so she falls, and injures herself, badly, only luckily she doesn't break anything, yet. And yes, she's changing doctors or I'll be killing someone (no not really).

OK, parents, there's one source of rage, you know when you are a child your parents are perfect, at least that's how I saw mine. Strong, healthy, steadfast, all that, with brilliant minds, and my parents were brilliant that' not just a child speaking, that's the adult child with the knowledge of reality speaking. Now my father can't remember much, he is slowly becoming senile, and my mother just sits, day in and day out and watches, she can't do anything, so she doesn't do anything at all. (Humm, guess I wasn't done with the parents).

No, I can't change anything, I can only love them as they are now, and hope to enjoy whatever time they have left, but believe me this gets harder every day, day after day. And they are not close enough to visit daily, no they are too far to drive easily and they wouldn't want us there everyday anyway. Damn, what can you do?

Anger, rage, my dog died. And I miss him tremendously. Silly, go from parents to dog. But you see that dog was part of my family too. He lived with me, he comforted me, he entertained me, he made me feel happy. Roux misses him too, and she is mourning him as much as I am. She still watches the back door to see if he's coming home. When I leave and can't take her with me, she tries to go anyway, she follows me to the gate, she tries to beat me out it so she can get in the car, knowing that getting her back out is hard. So now the electric fence is up and working again, why, because little Miss Roux 'b Doux, is an escape artist, and she will get out and she will try to find me, she will go all over town looking, crossing busy highways, running up and down trying to figure out where mom went, then she will go to the one place she knows I used to go the most and wait on the porch for me to find her. That is if she survives the trip there.

My dog shouldn't have died, I should have let them take all the extraordinary measures to prolong his life, I wasn't ready for him to die. I didn't want to let him go, it wasn't my time to lose him. Yes, it was the kindest thing I could do, for him, not for me and I'm selfish enough to want him back for a few more months, or maybe weeks, but I want him back so I can say good bye, and tell him I'm sorry for all the times I yelled at him for licking too much, even if it was bad for him because he licked himself raw, it was the pain, I now realize, he was licking where he hurt and the medicine didn't stop the pain enough, but I yelled, because I couldn't stand the noise, because I was afraid he cause an infection, for all kinds of reasons but right now I'd give almost anything to have him back and licking, the hell with why.

And then there's me, I'm so angry with myself for letting so many thing that are gone and done with affect the way I live. The car accident 10 years ago, still causes me pain, both physical and emotional, and the old man who lived next door to us who tried to molest me when I was 12, and the friend who raped me when I was 35, some friend. All those wonderful memories that keep popping up, and I can't let go.

Hateful teachers who didn't understand that my brain works differently from others, that I think differently, that many children do, that I'd know answers even when they hadn't given them yet, why because I'd read them, or just because my brain said that was the right answer, yes it's called many things and yes, I am those things, but it took me more than 21 years to accept that I wasn't stupid. In high school I almost convinced myself that I was stupid. I managed a D- average, but when we took national tests, called Iowa tests then, I'd score in the top 10% of the nation. My mother would then be called to school to explain how I cheated on a cheat proof test. An explanation that I didn't cheat but was actually smart, was taken with great skepticism, because of my class work, an explanation that I was bored, unhappy and unchallenged, went over most heads. I just hated school and wouldn't conform to the standards that were expected of me.

More Rage, because when I was a child anger was not allowed in our house. No, you see my father never, ever gets angry. To this day he'll tell you that, but believe me he is angry. He's angry that he is almost totally blind, that mom says he can't die until she does, that he can't drive anymore, that he has to depend on my sister and me to do things like pay his bills, keep his books, do his shopping, all the things that a dependent person used to do for himself. I could go on about all the things he's angry about, but why, imagine a man with a brilliant mind, who was at the top of his profession when he retired early, realizing that his mind isn't what it once was, that he didn't plan enough for his old age, he didn't expect to live this long, and now all his hard work, his planning, his life is ending in a way he didn't expect. He feels as though he is a failure because of the things he can't do and doesn't do, so he sits, and my mom sits and watches him, waiting for him, to do something, die, decide not to die, fight, show his anger, whatever, she waits and so do my sister and I.

Anger is a funny thing, not being allowed to be angry can be a very damaging thing. Anger can be healthy, I'm starting to learn that, as I start to recognize my own anger and rage, I beginning to realize that if I talk about it, write about and act upon it, withing healthy and legal limits, I can start to let it go.

But letting go isn't all that easy when some of the anger is based in the constant happenings in my life. I would wish my parents to die except I've never wanted to lose them, they were the rock on which my insecure self was and is built. If they are no longer alive, on what will I build myself? Me? I'm not someone I want to base my life on, I want to build a life on the person I should have been. Not the person who my father hoped I'd be and wasn't, not the person my mother wanted me to be and wasn't, and most of all not the person I expected me to be and never will be. Rather the person who started life with such promise, such joy and happiness, such an adventurous nature and mind, the mind that had no limits, the person who could have been anyone, anything she dreamed of, and would have been true to that dream and good at whatever she choose, but who got lost and warped along the way.

I'd sure like to find that little girl, the one who lost her way, who didn't know that a mind like hers was rare and wonderful, that indeed she was smarter than many of her teachers and that it was all right to be smarter than most people around her, that she could and should follow what she believed in and be damned with those who tried to stop her, who tried to rein in her enthusiasm for life and learning and thinking and dreaming. I'd like to tell her that regardless of age she can still fulfill her dreams, she can have them, she can still be whatever she wants, damn the limits of body and age and the world, but I doubt she'd believe me.

This is now early Sunday morning, this started Thursday night, I've seen my therapist since them, I've slept away most of the day on Saturday, the emotional strain of the session with said therapist was very taxing, many truths came out, many facts that I didn't realize or admit came out, and they hurt a lot, and now I'm finishing what I started two nights ago, for now.

You see many of the truths, many of the facts that I write about many others also deal with, the depression, the aging of parents, the loss of a loved one, regardless of whether a pet or person, the loss of one's dreams and in so many ways one's life. Maybe reading my rantings, my searching, my measuring of my life and it's regrets and all will help someone who happens upon this. I hope so, you see putting all this down in writing helps me deal with it more successfully, and more honestly, more openly, and then I actually publish it in a blog for the world to read if they choose. Why? My name isn't hidden, I admit to things most people hide from others, but you see I'm not ashamed of my life, my thoughts, my dealings with life, my falls, my fears, my failures, and most importantly my state of mind. I have nothing to be ashamed of, I'm just one person who has emotional and physical problems who is willing to write about and share them.

If just one of you out there gains anything from this, than my writing is a success.

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June 7th 2009 @ 05:20

Posted By: Janice M Cali - Category: No Category

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I've lost my mind!

Powder Puff Chinese Crested - Silly

I'm doing it again, I'm losing my mind. I've actually become unsane again. Yes, as you can see from the picture I'm looking at dogs, but not my usual big dogs, greyhounds, but little lap dogs, who can sit in the car in a car seat and be safe with a harness, and who can poop little poops, and who don't eat too much, and who are as cute as can be and would be good companions to Roux 'b Doux, you remember her, my standard poodle?

The above shown is named Silly, a silly name but from one of her pictures it fits her, and since I once had a cat named Brat, Silly isn't all that strange. She is a retired show dog, a champion, five years old and in need of a good home. That I can provide, easily. I have all the qualifications for a home for a dog, besides being devoted to them and their well being. I love 'em, know how to care for them and all that stuff. I can even train them if necessary.

However, there is no adoption fee, but there is the spaying fee, which, of course, I don't have, no I don't. I've written about how much Zeus cost in the past few months of his life, is last visit to the vet was close to $400.00 and just about put me under financially.

What I would do with one or even two more dogs, I don't know. Right now my life is in utter chaos, I'm fixing up my home so I can sell it, my health has been up and down, my shrink thinks I'm heading in the bipolar direction, and my depression is frequently out of hand. So, of course, it makes sense to think about adopting one or two more dogs, but at least they are small, not large like a greyhound or an Ibesian hound or a Borzoi, and all three have adoption centers, matter of fact I found two senior, well 7 year old, Borzois who need a together home, they were raised together and need to stay together if humanly possible, and I seriously thought of adopting them, but where in the world would I put them? Where would they run? Where would they go potty? The yard just isn't big enough. Damn, I'm nutz!

My friend suggested that I make an agreement with the breeder of the two Crested to let me have them unspayed, since there is a really good spay and neuter clinic near here that does the spaying and neutering for $50.00 per dog, and that would save me a bundle.

Damn, I am nuts to even think of doing this, but I want Roux to have company when I have to be away and I want these two lovely ladies, see below, to have a wonderful home.

Silly & Diva together

I want both to have a home where they can live out their days without fear of losing their home, without fear of being mistreated, without fear of anything. Someplace where puppyhood starts again, and they can be eternal puppies as is Roux and was Zeus and my other greys.

This is silly and probably unrealistic but I want both of those dogs, I just have to figure out how to get them, without spending $400.00 and breaking the bank forever. I've thought of one way but an not sure the breeder would go for it. I can only approach her and ask. Humm, I wonder what I'll come up with next? Only time will tell.

Meanwhile, I have to think very hard about the sanity of adopting one or two little retired show dogs and giving them house space and love, the last I can do, I can the first too, but I have to think of Roux too, would she like two more dogs, both at once? I have to consider this too, is she really happy as an only dog? It's been three years since she's been one, and I can't tell if she's really happy or not.

Only time and a flash of sanity will tell me what to do, meanwhile I'll ponder the alternatives, the reality, which is warped, and all the other things that are involved in adopting one, much less two, of these dogs..

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June 2nd 2009 @ 20:11

Posted By: Janice M Cali - Category: No Category

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Cleaning Happens!	Amazingly Weird!	Amazing!
Sanity Strikes!	Well Damn, or something!	Failure to Thrive
PTSD and Crazy Drivers	Rotten Back	Soul Searching & Saddness
I've lost my mind!	Roux 'b Doux & Zeus	Grieving
Grave Digging	Today I Killed My Dog	Lost Me, Hate Me, Who am Me