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Friday, May 16th, 2008
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1:36 pm - COOL!
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Henry said there was a "package waiting" slip in the mailbox this afternoon.
Neither of us ordered anything recently, so this can mean only one thing.
Someone has sent us cookies.
Yeah, cookies.
It's probably full of spiders or weird stuff from his mom, but I'm going to hang onto the fantasy of cookies to see me through the rest of the day.
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| Sunday, May 11th, 2008
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11:26 pm - Some of my lesser photographed cats
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Adolph, Cicero, and Daisy are the friendliest cats we have here at Chez Gatos, so they are often the most photographed, but I managed to get some of the lesser-known cats today.
Baby looks so startled. No idea what she was looking at, but not even the camera flash broke her freaked-out gaze.
( More of the shyer cats under here. )
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11:20 pm - Daisy's second chemo treatment
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Daisy's still holding her own. She's got a series of very small tumors along her scar line from surgery, but they haven't gotten much larger. She got her second chemo treatment on Friday. The vet said she was cranky, which is unusual, but her demeanor at home has been good. She's been tired, but overall, she's the same old Daisy. I got some pics of her today as I was cleaning up.
She really wishes I would just let her sleep without the flash going off.
Much later - she moved but the toy didn't.
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| Tuesday, April 29th, 2008
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9:44 pm - Now back to cat pics
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I plan to overhaul ghostroses.com soon and when I do, I will have a section called "Cats I Have Known" wherein I will document my rescues over the years. So I started scanning a bunch of old photographs and just have to share them. I am clearly a terrible scanner of pics, so kindly ignore the weird angles.
This is my favorite picture of Henry of all time. He's cuddling Wednesday Cat on the day we brought her home in 1996.
( Lotsa cats under here! )
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5:28 pm - Quitting what harms me
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When I have the emotional time to respond to the thoughtful and supportive comments I received in my last post, I will. The friendships I have here mean a lot to me.
I didn't go to work today. I just couldn't cope. I sat and thought about things and became restless. I got out my Cooking Light and veggie cookbooks and began to plan menus for the rest of the week. I will finish up when Henry comes home with some beans I asked him to get.
I wondered why, in the middle of contemplation, my first response to my jitters was to cook, making healthy foods and preparing for the rest of the week.
When I came to my conclusion, it was clear as day.
Food and my weight are the last really unresolved area of my life. I am fat. There are no two ways about it. I am about a decade away from a serious heart attack if I don't make some serious changes.
I used to do drugs. I started very young, and I quit.
I smoked for years. I started very young, and I quit.
I shopped to excess for years and started when I got my first credit card at 18. I quit.
I drank to excess for years. I started very young and I quit. I nuked many of my older entries here because I wrote them when I was hammered. I said I did it because I didn't want to be reminded of how sick I once was, but the fact is, I drank heavily when on chemo. If I said otherwise, I lied. Addicts do that. We lie.
We say, "Oh, I only drink once or twice a month and not that much when I do." We say, "I hardly ate anything. I eat as much as a thin person and I have no idea why I am this fat." We say, "Oh, this outfit. It's old, I swear," and as we say it, we pray we removed the sales tags. Some of it we convince ourselves of and we mean the truth when we speak, but at our core, we see the difference between ourselves and healthy people.
I now eat to excess and I have done it for years. I want to quit.
I have swapped addictions all my life. Swapping addictions means I didn't ever really look hard at who I am and why I need to medicate. Such lack of self-knowledge has crippled me in a lot of ways - my relationship with Henry, my writing, my ability to have friends.
I know why I need to medicate. My last entry shows in spades why I need to medicate.
At some point, we all become grown-ups, which means we understand that the damage we are doing to ourselves now is our fault. What happened to us as children, what we experienced when we were weak and helpless is nothing to dismiss, but we make a conscious choice to toss our lives in the crapper decades later.
My obesity is killing me. I remember what it felt like to be thin. I could buy clothes anywhere and I felt good when I went out into public. I fit into movie theater seats easier. I had energy and wanted to leave the house. As it is now, I am wiped out after a day of work at a relatively sedentary job.
This is no kind of life. I have had all sorts of ills and ailments that I know are tied to my weight and I can act now while I am still in my 30s or I can cling to this addiction, eating birthday cakes in the middle of the night because I am sad, until increasing age makes it difficult to change no matter what my will may be.
I am fat. I am fat because I overeat. I overeat because I am sad. I will be sad as I start these changes but as I work out, as I eat food meant for human consumption and not the crap that currently sustains me, as I take walks on the path that is literally across the street, I will change my body, my mind and my perspective about what it means to be me.
Both of my parents were fat. Morbidly obese. My father would have been considered super obese and I have used this as a crutch. It's my genetics, I convince myself. My father was also a drunk and my mother is still a spendthrift. I don't drink and overspend anymore, no matter how strong a genetic influence such acts may have had behind them.
So, my first act was to make good food. My second act was to jog on the mini trampoline Henry bought me a while back. My third was to find a yoga website that has incredible animations and start yoga again (I did two poses before I wanted to puke but that's two more poses than I did yesterday).
My fourth act will be to throw away the scale because that is a form of compulsion for me. I diet, I lose a couple of pounds, the inevitable fluctuations happen, I start to starve myself, and then I binge because I feel deprived. I don't need that scale. Neither does Henry.
I can do this.
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| Friday, April 25th, 2008
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10:52 pm - I got to see my mom's heart
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Thanks so much for all your kind words and wishes. I appreciate it you all more than you know.
This is a sort of a gross entry. Stop reading now if you are sensitive to gross stuff.
This morning was really bad. While no one came out and said it, my mother clearly thought she was going to die. She passed in and out of consciousness and during one moment of clarity, she asked Tony to assemble all the family. Within hours, most of Tony's family was there and so was Henry. My side of the family is more widely dispersed and could not get there quickly. But in her cat-of-nine-lives fashion, Mom had a little more life in her.
Here's what happened: My mother was not bleeding internally. That part got garbled in all the communications. She was bleeding out profusely from her intestines. On Thursday morning, she woke up feeling great. She fed her cats, got the mail and sat down to eat the breakfast my aunt made her. After two bites, she complained of feeling ill and passed out. She bled out from her anus and passed in and out of consciousness. Tony and my aunt could not get her in the car so they called paramedics.
When the paramedics got there, her blood pressure was 50/30. It took nine people in the ER to get her stabilized. She almost died. She had tubes up her backside and down her throat to see what was happening. Finally they found that her intestines were bleeding. The insides of her intestines were terribly inflamed.
She was placed in ICU and continued to lose blood. A CAT scan showed the inflammation and she lucked out that not only was the man who did her surgery at the hospital, but he knows a lot about sarcoidosis and various forms of colitis. He has no idea what caused this to happen but given her overall health, weird stuff like this is going to keep happening. At about 8:30 this morning, my mother lost even more blood and was in so much pain she likely thought it was over. The doctors were sure she needed a colostomy to stop the bleeding, but the advanced state of sarcoid combined with her liver damage combined with her low blood pressure meant that she likely would spend weeks in the hospital, provided she survived the surgery.
But the doctor who did her gall bladder surgery placed her on a heavy regimen of antibiotics and gave her blood transfusions. She's still in a lot of pain, and is not out of the woods yet, but by 5:00 this evening, she woke up and began to joke around and begged for ice chips. She's lucid between pain shots, but is on antibiotics so powerful that one family member who has an antibiotic allergy was told not to kiss her. But when she needed the bedpan all she did was pass gas - no blood at all. Her blood pressure is on the very low side of normal but is much improved.
The sarcoid is in all her organs except her brain and heart, and the latter is not entirely surely clear of it. She developed a heart murmur and the doctors wonder if it is sarcoid related. I was in the room when she got a kidney, bladder and heart ultrasound done. At this point, she has been scanned inside and out.
I honestly do not know how much she has left in her. When one is so ill that one cannot endure life-saving surgery, and the condition making one sick is permanent, it doesn't seem likely one has much life left. She's got more fight than anyone I have ever known or heard of. To know that she herself thought it was over speaks more than any doctor could tell us. But she's hanging on.
On another note, her doctor is hilarious. His name is Dr. Matin and when he came in this evening around 5:30, he was so blunt that only his delivery saved him from a punch in the groin. A rough but accurate paraphrase of what he said to my mother: "My god I thought I was done with you. I had four gall bladder removals Wednesday and you took twice as long as all the others combined. Your gall bladder was so full of stones we thought it was going to split like an overfull bean bag. Your liver looked like someone took a hammer to it. Then I hear you're back in ER and I think, 'Oh no! She's bleeding from her gall bladder surgery.' But no! You're bleeding from the butt!"
I'm exhausted. And I'm in a La Quinta. I need a shower and at least five hours of sleep.
Your prayers and kindnesses were so appreciated.
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| Thursday, April 24th, 2008
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2:29 pm - It's bad
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My mother's husband called during one of the few times I was away from my desk. My mom is in the emergency room at Baylor Irving. She had to be rushed there by ambulance. She began bleeding internally. Her blood pressure is very low and she keeps losing consciousness. They can't tell where the bleeding is coming from and are putting camera tubes down her throat.
Tony told me he didn't want to scare me but everything in his tone told me he is very scared.
In whatever manner you commune with the Divine, please mention my mother. The way we want things to happen may not happen, but if the worst does come to pass, ask that it come peacefully and without pain.
Edit at 3:30 p.m.: Heading to Irving now. Thank you all for all your kind words.
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11:56 am - Continuing in the "I HAS A NEW CAMERA!" theme
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I'm featuring some of my less photographed cats (less photographed because they aren't constantly underfoot like Adolph).
Sweetness was one of my mom's rescues, but when Sweetness had kittens, my mom asked me to help. So we drove to Dallas from Austin and brought her and her babies back with us. We didn't know she was pregnant at the time, too. The summer of 2003 was very kitten-y.
We kept Sweetness because others find her constant talking in a loud, raspy meow very annoying. She also tends to be very nervous and her disposition and tendency to groom until she bleeds are nothing that behavioral or medical intervention could help. However, she is very sweet, as her name indicates. We also call her Snarla and Catfish. She loves the new, bigger house, and recently stopped overgrooming her belly, letting all her fur grow out. She still loathes all the cats but tolerates their presence better.
Sweetness, telling Cicero to stay down!
( Closer look at her pretty face! )
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| Wednesday, April 23rd, 2008
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9:25 am - Is it okay that I just don't care...
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Honestly, the whole boob grabbing thing and the ball-kicking response? Don't care. Wow, and I don't even think I'm obliged to tear up my feminist card.
This week stinks. Truly.
The water softener broke Again. On Sunday. For those who were like me before I bought this house and know little about hard versus soft water, 10 grains (of whatever) per gallon means you have hard water. I have 22 grains per gallon. Without the softener, my skin dries out and I get a rash, my scalp gets covered in sores, soap doesn't lather or wash away, my clothes don't get clean and neither do my dishes. Also, the water is undrinkable. We have to buy a new one and it is going to cost $1800.
My mother's gallbladder removal was complicated by the fact that her liver was wrapped around it.
Our new car wouldn't start yesterday and had to be towed. I had let the inspection and registration lapse on the other car so we had to work from home. I don't understand what was wrong with the new car but it was under warranty and we have it back now. We are about to drive into the office.
Yesterday, I accidentally took two Ambien instead of two Celexa. I didn't realize this until I had sent out several e-mails at work to the wrong people and got one woman seriously riled. I mean, she was pissed. Don't ask me why, because I fell asleep. Henry tucked me into bed.
The end. Until I get to work and am probably fired because I accidentally sent out an e-mail to a woman whose name was close to the intended recipient in the search menu.
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8:33 am - Miss Baby and the TV
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| Monday, April 21st, 2008
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1:23 pm - The little black dancing cat
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(We got a new camera, hence my cat spam as of late.)
We met Tabby-Mama in 1997. We were looking to move closer to the University of Texas and narrowed it down to two apartments. We chose the one we ended up living in for four years because I fell in love with the little black dancing cat.
Tabby-mama lived under the apartment house (a converted Craftsman) with her feral mother, tame brother, feral sister and a host of other abandoned cats. When I first saw the apartment, Tabby came out and talked to me and acted like she wanted to be petted. She would then let me scritch her head for a second, then would prance off, then come back, then prance off again. It was like watching a kitty-rumba.
Tabby was semi-feral in that she was comfortable around people but she hated being picked up and had wild habits, like peeing on beds and destroying all semi-soft items she came into contact with, so it took us about three years to get her tame enough to bring her inside. It was her dancing that got us into cat rescue - we probably would have picked that other apartment (it had a washer and dryer and a dishwasher) had it not been for the little black dancing cat. Through her life and the lives of the other cats, we came to understand the plight of feral and abandoned cats.
Henry got her to dance on the arm of his chair the other day.
( And she kept dancing )
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10:38 am - The state of the economy via the media
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http://money.cnn.com/2008/04/21/news/economy/moms_foodshopping/index.htm?cnn=yes
So, things are getting so tight that it is newsworthy when a woman makes her own detergent, people buy store brands and people clip coupons? Wow. I think it is now official that the American economy is in the tank if this really is considered news.
Lately, I've noticed all sorts of ads that discuss nothing but how much money one can save. People fretting over gas prices relax and eat from fast food dollar menus. Supermarket chains claim that you can save enough money to buy gas shopping with them. Cars that offer to save you money through higher gas mileage. Cell phones and insurance ads out the wazoo, all claiming to save money.
More disturbing all are the ads for lawyers to help with tax debt relief and advertisements for pay-day loans (with admonitions that consumers must use the loans wisely). I find really upsetting the ads for walk-in clinics that have set prices for visits, featuring desperate moms who must get back to work and cannot wait for a regular physician appointment for their sick child.
I heard two things on NPR last week that have stuck with me. Locksmiths are seeing an upsurge in their business with all the foreclosures and some are thinking about working when armed because of recent attacks when homeowners find them there to change the locks for the bank. There have been food riots in Haiti, Egypt and parts of China and American food banks are worrying that come the high electric bills that accompany summer, they won't have enough to support the communities that depend on them. How much longer before there are riots in America, with people losing their homes and many going hungry while the government backs billion dollar corporate bail outs, leaving people in the streets, chanting mantras about personal responsibility.
And people got upset with Obama for saying that some Americans are bitter.
For the record, Henry and I make our own laundry detergent and we do it much easier than the woman in the CNN article. We use bars of Zote soap, grate them, and mix it in the food processor with two parts soap to one part washing soda and one part borax. I just add the detergent to the machine and let it fill and agitate before I add clothes. On the highest water setting, I only have to use 4 tablespoons, or 1/4 cup. Honestly though, unless one has small children, teenage boys or works a dirty job, most textiles require far less detergent than most consumers think. I just loathe the smell of most detergents and hate the ethics of the ones whose smells I can tolerate or come unscented, which is why we started making it.
Two bars of Zotes, 1 box of washing soda and 1 box of borax (and we don't actually use up both boxes) makes enough detergent for two to three months, depending on how much the cats are shedding and how often Adolph defiles a bathmat. That's about six dollars. It takes less than 20 minutes to make. It used to be that laundry detergent was the main reason I went to Target. Staying out of Target is actually a very good way for me to save money (god, that place is insidious - go in for detergent and leave with a DVD, new pillows, some capri pants, some lipstick and a frozen pizza).
Anyway, I'm finding all of this interesting and a bit dismaying.
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| Sunday, April 20th, 2008
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10:21 pm - Adolph goes for a ride
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10:08 pm - Daisydaisydaisy
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| Tuesday, April 15th, 2008
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10:22 pm - Laundry day with very bad cats
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| Monday, April 14th, 2008
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9:57 am - Just where I am right now
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It is still hard for me to reply to comments in a timely manner but I trust people here understand. Once things start working the way I want, I will have even less time.
Henry is working on a major rework of ghostroses. New graphics, and a more concentrated approach. There will be a section for the blog, but also a section for my reactions to books, a section called "Cats I Have Known" where I document my rescues and the adventures with cats we have had, as well as a section where I plan to document Texas Cemeteries and research to see what tales some of them may have to tell. My breakthrough is looming, I can feel it. Clusters of short stories stay out longer and longer (at markets where being out a long time is a good thing). My young adult novel is not far from finished and the reactions I have received have been amazing. People like it a lot. There have been suggestions that this novel is really more an adult book, a la Jasper Fforde, but the number of teenagers in the book makes me wonder about that. Regardless, I'm putting in the work, things will happen soon and I need a good website to back me up.
If I posted chapters of Caspar Dee, would anyone want to read them? Show of hands?
We are streamlining the house to make it easier to keep up with. We plan to get a vacuum just for the second floor, as well as ensuring that each bathroom has its own cleaning supply stash. We are about three weeks away from making the yard work diminish to the point that all we will have to do is mow regularly. That should relieve a lot of the work. Having a corner lot means our yard is very big.
My mother is very ill again. It looks like the sarcoidosis is attacking organs other than her lungs (it also attacks her bones by leaching out the calcium - I am now taller than she is). Her gall bladder is going to have to come out this week, as well as possibly her spleen. Her spleen is so swollen that her doctor put her on emergency medical leave (yes, the stubborn old woman is still working). Her liver is swollen, too. They can't just go in and remove the gall bladder and spleen because the sarcoidosis has done something to her blood vessels, so there is a chance this could be very invasive.
She just had that massive rod put in her leg this January. Now this. I cannot help but feel her days of dodging death may be numbered, though she may prove me wrong yet again. I never know what to do to help. She will never tell me if she wants me to come up and keep her company when she undergoes surgery. I cannot even trust her to tell me the whole truth about medical situations, though I suspect this time I know all there is to know because she didn't try to prevent me from talking to her husband.
I feel callous, but I have so much on my plate at home and at work that I hope that she tells me to stay home. But I am also sufficiently concerned that I actually talked to Henry about going ahead and getting proper funeral attire just in case. I feel really bad inside that my relationship with my family is like this, but I also know there is little I can do to fix things. This is just how things are. Best to deal with it without recrimination and ignore such feelings when they are offered to me.
But I will probably find a nice, somber dress and some good black pumps. Given the median age of my family, this is just a good idea, period.
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| Saturday, April 12th, 2008
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11:13 pm - "I want to live where it's always Saturday"
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Several things terrible to share, some of which will have pictures in the near future...
1) Our buffalo grass is being overcome by monkey grass and weeds. All that work... We called a company called Real Green Lawns, which treats weeds organically and the rep pretty much told us the new lawn was a write-off but we can rescue the monkey grass. He treated the dandelions and aerated the lawn. Within days we had a sparkling green lawn that we have no intention of watering past what it takes for the monkey grass to take complete hold. What gives? Buffalo grass is supposed to native, hearty and weed-resistant. It isn't two of those three.
2) Our plan to place rock around the edge of the house instead of bushes, weird non-native plants that require lots of water and girlie little flowers that make me sick hit several snags. One is that we have motherfucking fire ants from hell, and that is the point of this number two. My god, I accidentally tread in some three weeks ago and I am still itching. In the bush beds, there was a tarp that is supposed to prevent weeds and bugs (ANOTHER LIE). As I was pulling it back, we found several fire ant mounts. Two non-organic exterminations later and we still have fire ants. Jesus Allah Fuck.
3) Those bushes in the bush beds were not bushes. They were trees. The one on the side of the house near the fireplace has likely caused foundation problems. It took Henry and me three hours today to get it out. We almost stopped and decided to get some stump killer, but I hated that goddamned stump so much that I couldn't wait. It had to come out of the ground and it had to come out now. We found the following things when we were digging, hacking, axing and screaming profanities:
A small frog
More buried nuts than you could shave a shovel at
A cluster of the most frightening, smelly, disgustingly moist bulbs ever. I have no idea what would have made anyone bury bulbs like that several feet down, but they did. They reeked of onions, rot and, strangely, shame
Some pennies
The last shred of my sanity
Seriously, we dug down several feet before we were able to sever all the roots. It was an oak tree. Likely a squirrel buried an acorn (I found countless sprouting acorns and pecans today as I weeded) and no one bothered to deal with it for 15 years or so. The trunk was about two feet in diameter and less than two feet from the foundation. It had been hacked down but the tree was never killed and the small limbs that grew from the stump, as well as all the ornamental fucking greenery that was planted around it, hid the true horror.
I am totally sunburned.
There were a couple of bright sides to today:
1) It was cool and breezy so I didn't die of heat stroke.
2) The frog we dug up escape unharmed.
3) We have baby mourning doves and they are so fat and cute, bobbing around on the back porch.
4) I met the neighbors who live behind us and we found out what happened to the goats. Evidently there was no room at the high school barn, so they let a boy from Pflugerville High keep his goats in the yard. He must have been the sullen teenager we saw feeding them. When he showed them and got his final grade, he sold them, but they weren't killed, she was fast to tell us. She seemed disappointed that we have no kids. This neighborhood is lousy with kids. She was walking her granddaughter to the mail box when she met us. Two girls lost their dog Bobo briefly. We heard them shouting "BOBO!" then Bobo, who was sniffing around two houses down, came running back top speed, a huge mongrel, and the three of them then made such a racket they got called in by a mother, heartily annoyed by them. I interacted more with my neighborhood today as I cursed at stumps than I have in the preceding five months.
Does anyone else remember the song "Always Saturday" by Guadalcanal Diary? I remember these lyrics, and they've been going through my head today as I realized I lived in suburbia and am, in fact, now a P-villian (and these may be a little off, as I really am pulling this from memory):
"Water on pavement shimmering,
Sunshine washes everything.
A basket of light, I am trusting,
To water the lawn is a wonderful thing
If I could have it this way I know I'd...
I'd wanna live where it's like today.
I'd wanna live where it's always this way.
I wanna live where it's always Saturday.
A chorus of laughter fills the air.
Everyone's going everywhere.
So many choices it's not fair.
I hop in my car and I just sit there.
I don't need, need to think about how much I...
I wanna live where it's all the same.
I wanna live where it's all just like today.
I wanna live where it's always Saturday.
In the shops of shining things,
I can see them shimmering.
I wish that I could buy them all.
I wish I lived in a shopping mall.
Shady backyard afternoon,
Summer clothes and tennis shoes.
When the light begins to fade,
A porch swing creaks with lemonade...
A shower of whispers glow and bloom.
Late night movie fills the room.
Streetlights twinkling like dew.
I close my eyes, it ends too soon.
All in dreams, I can dream now oh how I...
I wanna live where it's like today.
I wanna live where it's always this way.
I wanna live where it's always Saturday."
The suburbs ain't so bad. Not once today did I see a kid so overly troubled I felt like calling the police. Of course, that isn't a good indicator of a sound home-life, the ability to look normal, but I have also seen no sad cats, no abused dogs, no kids locked out of the house and no one loitering, clearly up to no good. Living where it's always Saturday will eventually be bland for us, but for now, we sort of like it.
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| Wednesday, April 9th, 2008
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8:06 pm - Happy fun time!
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12:58 pm - Daisy-Pig update
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Tabby-mama and Daisy with Noodle looking on.
Daisy got her staples removed today and we discussed chemotherapy. It turns out that the "oral chemo" drug the last vet gave Daisy was really a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory, essentially a form of aspirin. I have no idea why the last vet told us it was chemo, but I guess that makes me even gladder we got a second opinion. It was a drug more commonly used for dogs and Daisy's bad reaction was common in cats, and does not in any way reflect how she will do on chemo.
The vet recommended a course of chemo delivered by IV every three weeks, five treatments. Most cats have a couple of down days after receiving treatment, with mild lethargy and reduced appetite as the main reactions. If Daisy does okay, we're going to pursue the whole course.
Again, this is not a cure. It's just beating the cancer in her lymphatic system back so that she can enjoy a little more time here, so if the chemo fails and her tumors return, it won't be too heartbreaking. We know we're going to lose her, this year probably, but if the chemo gives her a higher quality of life in the short term, why not do it?
The Pig is currently running around with Cicero. She seems very happy to be staple-free.
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| Sunday, April 6th, 2008
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8:48 pm - Hey Dana!
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Yo, ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) eigthcloud, you and your amazing cat were a search string at my ghostroses blog last month. Behold:
0.68% willow cat livejournal dana
You were right in there with people searching for information on Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go, Min Jin Lee's Free Food for Millionaires and how to find a Slinky t-shirt like the one worn in the movie, Juno.
E-fame, get used to it!
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