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Hey Doc…I have this tickle in my chest…
So, I got a shot, antibiotics, and a cough syrup from the doctor today and all I did was go in for my regularly scheduled appointment.
Problem was I’ve had this tickle in my chest for a couple of weeks so naturally I mentioned it to him.
He took a listen to my lungs and said, “Yuck.”
The next thing I knew, one of his nurses gave me a shot and handed me a bottle pills and a bottle of cough syrup.
I go back in a month now.
What am I bid?
One Curmudgeon in poor condition.
Going once…
Going twice…
What no bids?
None?
So, I’m still stuck with him…. Sigh.
The darkness comes
I never know when the darkness will creep over me and drag me to the pit of despair.
Invariably, it comes upon me with a greater regularity than it used to do.
I look around and find everything shaded in gray and black. No brightness, no joy.
I’m a drudge and nothing more.
His new chair
I took The Curmudgeon out To Raymour and Flanigan to pick out his replacement chair.
They had a wheelchair waiting for him.
It sure didn’t take him long to find one he liked. The color goes well with the other furniture too. It is bigger and better with a microfiber upholstery. On sale, so we even have a $49.99 credit now.
It arrives sometime Tuesday-Thursday.
Old dogs are scary
Poor old Gavin.
On Thursday he lost his breakfast and then later his dinner. This after we just got his squirts under control and he went back on mostly his regular food.
So, as of yesterday he began his hamburger and rice diet again, in two small meals. We’ll continue that over the weekend and see if he has any more problems.
At his age, I hesitate when I lift the towel from the front of his crate in the morning. I hope for his normal happy morning greeting.
I dread losing him. I know his days are numbered but when, as today, he runs at me full tilt to bash me in the shin it’s hard to believe that on November 1st he’ll be fifteen.
Sorry Charlie…or why I stopped eating Starkist tuna
It all comes down to where the tuna is ‘manufactured’ for me.
After reading the labels and deciding that tuna packed in China, Ecuador, or any other place outside of the US is not for me, I found that there is one last company that still operates in the US.
I don’t care how fancy you package it or how fancy you flavor it. You sent our jobs elsewhere.
I now buy only Chicken of the Sea tuna. Thank you for not leaving the country to manufacture our food.
I really do not trust having my food processed and manufactured in countries where the cleanliness regulations are nowhere near as stringent as ours.
Thus we come to the end of the month…
The Curmudgeon got his stitches out yesterday. All looks good there.
No more appointments for the rest of this month. Yippee, two whole days.
We begin October with my doctor appointment and go from there.
I need to go grocery shopping and I will be taking care of G’s cats while she’s on vacation.
I also need to squeeze a vet appointment in for Lucy–she needs her teeth cleaned and to see if they can do anything about her slightly leaky bladder, at night, when she’s sound asleep.
In truth it’s November that’s going to be the bitch. In the first week alone I have two appointments.
The Curmudgeon has two appointments the following week and one the week after that.
Patinum Guarantee
The Curmudgeon’s lounge chair is very important to him, it’s where he spends most of his time.
Therefore, we paid for a platinum guarantee on it when we bought it. So glad we did. So far they have replaced the chair twice and repaired it three times.
They are replacing it again. This time the foot rest mechanism broke.
Lazy Boy, they stand behind their products.
Gee, I wonder if they’ll pay me for this?
Bite me MS Society
So The Curmudgeon gets this MS society magazine every month. He didn’t subscribe to it, they just send it.
He never reads it, but once in a while I’ll skim through it.
Most of the articles are laughable in their ‘you can do it’ approach to life with MS.
When you are secondary progressive MS and have had MS as long as he has had it, there comes a time when no matter how much you want to, you can’t do it.
Then there are the ridiculous caregiver articles.
“Take care of yourself” Yeah, if I can find the time and energy. I do this all by myself. They don’t volunteer to come and clean my house, clear out the mess the roofer made of my attic, clear out my basement, change the wheels on his mobility cart, or clean up my yard.
I take care of him and two dogs. I have to sneak in my showers and going for groceries is a major production that I try to make it my day out with G.
That way I can hit the ground running and go until I drop.
I can’t even take care of the house. It continues to get dirtier by the day. I look at it and feel so overwhelmed all I want to do is curl up in a corner and cry.
But I can’t do that because I have to cook his dinner, feed the dogs, take them out, do the dishes…
Today’s Tee shirt
I could easily become a hermit
There are days where having a bit of quiet can make your entire week bearable.
Too bad quiet is a foreign concept around here.
And so we begin another week.
So fitting …
Doggonedmysteries 