What I am doing these days

I have taken some time from work for a few reasons. I had a rough year last spring in that I had a major infection written about in Wow, was 2014 busy ! ! ! ! ! ! ! 

Different things have been happening to me, like my jaw shaking, or headaches, or falling over like someone has taken my gravity away, or falling asleep with no notice. Each time one of these things happened, especially the falling I'd ask the doctor, they'd do blood tests for what they thought it might be and find I was fine.

Great! I was beginning to feel like a full fledged hypochondriac. Finally, after falling asleep behind the wheel (May long weekend - 2014 - southbound hwy 89) and narrowly escaping a head on, I waited for the doctor's office to open on the Tuesday and told him what had happened. They immediately did some more tests and started to set up an appt. with a neurologist. It took until November 11th for me to get in to see him. He ordered various other tests and on the 16th of December 2014, I was told they found a 'brain lesion'.

Lesion because it does not sound as bad as tumour. Tumour everyone automatically thinks cancer but a lesion is benign.

I was scared but also relieved as it meant I had a reason why stuff was happening. So I was to see him February 18th  and a second MRI was ordered with contrast dye. That gave them a better picture. But I have still not spoken to a neurosurgeon. They wanted to get me in to see him ASAP but apparently he wants all the tests done first. At first I was pissed off, but later I realized that that was a better way to use his time. I mean he is already busy doing cancerous tumors and so as much as I am going CRAZY waiting to know what is happening, it is finally only three more days till the last (for now) MRI which is really a fancy one called: MRS (Magnetic resonance spectroscopy ) that will give them a much better idea of what is going on.

I have no other appointments scheduled so I am not sure what the procedure is now. I guess I'll sweat it through the weekend and hear something the beginning of next week.

Also, to be continued

I have been going through and cleaning up drafts

Previously written in August 2009.

So we have been thinking about getting a new puppy. My Sidney is 7 years old this Saturday (the 15th) and I want another dog for him to play with while he is still young. Its also a good idea to get another dog while he's young as it makes the transition easier for him.

And I am thinking ahead. It will kill me if anything happens to Sid. He is such a wonderful little dog and I love everything about him.

So, I had been contacting breeders and not really having much luck. At first I was thinking of a Shih Tzu, Shetland Sheepdog, or Standard Poodle. Points can be made for all three breeds.

Finally narrowed it down to another Shih Tzu as they are the loveliest little dogs. All three breeds require a lot of work on the coat, but maybe the new one will go to a groomer (still deciding).

I put down a deposit for a male puppy and then waited; . . . . . and waited and waited. The females didn't come into heat for some reason and when she finally did have puppies we had already gotten another dog.

I had mentioned it to hubby at one point that I has always wanted a Standard poodle and he reminded me of that. Standards are $1500.00 and I just didn't have that kind of money at the time. Which is how we happened to buy a miniature poodle that I named Emma.

They have their own blog under the "Blogs I Like" header to the right.

I apologize for not keeping this blog up. I have been guilty of that with all of my blogs actually. But I have made a promise to myself to get back in the groove. I found I have so many things I want to write about.

* * * * *

Fast forward to Tuesday March 10, 2015


The reason I brought this post out from the dust was because on Monday February 9th, 2015 I had Sidney put to sleep.

I was right. It hurt so bad. I felt like my heart was broken. The only good thing is that he is not suffering anymore. I don't know for sure what was wrong with him, but there was something. I could see it in his actions and his demeanor, and especially the way he stuck to me. He had lost his site quite suddenly and was doing somewhat okay but suddenly he started to cry EVERY time he was more than a few inches from me. That was not like him at all. He used to bark when he wanted something.

Then he fell part way down the stairs, so I used to walk behind him and help him. One time he came up the stairs and only made it halfway. I heard him falling and thank heaven he didn't break anything. I started putting barriers up to keep him where I was, but sometimes he'd get past and down he'd go again.

If I was going downstairs and coming right back he had been trained to 'wait'. He would lay down at the top of the stairs and stay there until I came back. I didn't want such a short legged dog going up and down the stairs any more than he needed to. he had NEVER ignored that command. Until this one day. I was heading back towards the stairs and I heard him fall. He hit every step on the way down. All 15 of them!!!

I was so scared for him. So sad for him. I started to think about his quality of life. The noises that he was making were nothing like I'd ever heard from him before. I started to watch him and noticed that his tail was always down now; he never wagged it; he cried all the time; he slept on his tummy with his head between his paws (he never did that before); he didn't even pay attention to Emma any more. She tried to get him to interact with her, but nothing.

I think in those last few days after I had made the decision I saw that tail come up and wag once and that was when I asked him if he wanted to see Dr. D--------. He knew.

When we got him there he was given brownies. I thought that was so cool. And so did he! He always had a good appetite. And here he was getting the 'NOT ALLOWED FOR DOGS' CHOCOLATE.

We talked about him and he lay there the way you see him in the picture; all regal and stuff. Talked about some of the things he did. He used to go down a slide, and get slippers, and he could say 'mama' (all on YouTube) and he never had a mean bone in his body.

Then I asked if we could do this. The Dr. started the needle and within a couple of seconds he was gone. He just lay his little head down between his paws and that was it. My Sidney is gone. From my house but never from my heart and my memory.

Ever been depressed?

I mean really depressed. Not feeling sad or just a little off. I mean really full blown, crying for no reason, not enjoying life, wishing you could disappear, not being able to live, barely able to function, not able to get a thought together to answer a question, being glad (and sad) that breathing is automatic because otherwise its too much work, depressed?

All I can say is, it is the most horrible place to be. Take the depression test , and see a doctor. I'm glad I did.

I actually didn't know what was happening to me. I remember my husband would talk to me and ask me a simple question and my brain could just not come up with a response. And he wasn't asking me for the meaning of life! Sometimes it would be as simple as 'what do you want for breakfast?' I would look at him and my mind would register that he had said something to me. I would wonder why he was asking me this absolutely impossible question, but I could not for the life of me figure out what I was supposed to say to him.

I remember walking down to the park by us and walking along the bay shore. I would cry on the way there. I would sit, looking at the water and thinking if I just went in there I could drown myself. Then, I figured the water wasn't deep enough, anyway. Good thing I had forgotten that you can drown in 3" of water.

I was still going to work and there was this one girl there who was like a vulture on carrion. She used to pick at as often as she could and I didn't have it in me to fight back. I ended up taking a half sick day and as I was driving home thinking I could drive into the bridge abutment at 100kmp and that would be the end of all of this.

Except that a week before my doctor had given me 'the test'. He asked me the  'do you ever think of killing yourself ' question. I found out that 'yes' was a warning answer. He asked me to promise him that if I thought of suicide I was to speak to him first.

So that promise made me continue past the bridge and to his office where as soon as they saw me they put me in his office and he saw me right away. I was put on medical leave and made to promise him once again that I would keep in touch. He knew a promise would work on me.

Thus started months of talk therapy. I will have to take medication for the rest of my life or I'll end up in that space again. Oh, I tried being off meds to see if I could live without them, but the depression came back. More than once! But never as bad as the first time. Never. And if taking meds for the rest of my life keeps me away from that horrible place, then fill the prescription and give me a glass of water!


And as if that wasn't bad enough, it was happening to me at the same time as my brother was in a very severe depression as well. He tried to kill himself a couple of times. The second time he was released from the hospital, he went home on his third attempt he succeeded. It was also the day before my birthday.


Couple that with the fact that my Mum was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease and was at the stage where she would forget recent things. So at my brother's funeral my Dad was having to tell her over and over again, what was happening and why they were there.

I really don't know how he did it. He had lost one of his sons, plus had to tell my Mom whose funeral they were at and why. So he was reminded over, and over, and over that not only was his second son gone, but that his wife was 'gone' as well.

* * * * *

to be continued . . . .

Backyard Chickens

When I lived in the country I had chickens. Giving the chickens fresh water, collecting eggs, topping up the feeders. Just great. It NEVER, ever seemed like work.  Didn't matter what the weather was like, going out to the chicken coop was always a pleasure. Well, except for the night a raccoon came by and killed and partially ate 5 chickens. (If they want a chicken, while I won't be happy about it, just take one and go.)

Other than that I loved having chickens. They know you're a source of food and they also always knew when I had found a bug or had something that was going to be thrown out that they could have. They'd be waiting at the fence for you to throw today's treat in the run. They were especially good at cleaning off bones. The end of the day you just had to go and pick up the bare bones.

But there were two excellent reasons to have chickens. One, they are very soothing to watch and listen to. Better than fish in an aquarium. (The eggs are bigger.)

And two, for me there was nothing so relaxing as looking after chickens. I would come home from work and do my chores. I always put a date in pencil, on the top end of the egg so I knew when they were collected. Customers really enjoyed that.

* * * * *

I think with Mental Health Awareness so much in the forefront now, that having chickens can be a solution for some people. I don't know how many of you remember the 'old days' when most dentist's offices, and some doctor's offices, had an aquarium in the waiting room. We used to sit and watch the fish just go back and forth and it sort of kept your mind off the real reason you were there.

One of the complaints is that chickens are noisy. A rooster crowing first thing in the morning, and some times even in the middle of the night, is just not everyone's cup of tea. BUT, they have now developed sex-link chicks. That means that the male and female chicks are a different colour when hatched.  

"Avoid ordering Barred Plymouth Rock, Rhode Island Red, and Colombian Rock X, which are more difficult to sex as chicks. In sex-link birds the sexes have distinctive colour or marking patterns, which will greatly reduce the chance you’ll get unwanted males." this is a rough quote from Frey's Hatchery in St. Jacob's, Ontario.

There is one type that you can get where the males are yellow, and have grey markings down their back like a chipmunk. The females, however, are the same colour as chipmunks!

And you haven't seen cute until you've seen a day old chick.

2014 continued

So, I am sent home, again,  and the next evening I find myself once again in emergency because my antibiotic is running out and no one has phoned yet about changing the bag.

Nothing is set up so we end up running back to emergency where they run through another dose of medication. Back home we go and that afternoon I finally receive a call about a nurse coming by to check on the wound, change the IV, etc.

Thus started my 77 days, or 11.75 weeks, or 1,872 hours, which accounted for 154 bag changes of antibiotic. Of those, the first 21 days I had someone here two times a day. I asked them to show me how to do it myself and that meant I only needed someone once a day. Then it got to every third day as the PIC line needed to be removed, the area cleaned and a new line put in. Now this just means that the PIC line itself is still in my arm, but that the parts outside my body must be changed every three days. After all, we don't want an infection there too. :-)

The part that really defeated me each week was when the  drugs were delivered. I'd look at it thinking maybe there would only be a little while longer. Like maybe this was the last week. Then I'd see the date and it would be for 9, or 8, or 7 more weeks before they thought I could stop.

In the mean time my leg took an awful, awful long time to get better. It was quite the battle we had going on there. At one point shortly after I was home again it was so swollen that my leg was actually oozing fluid. The skin was so tight it was literally squeezing it out. I told the nurse about that and he made note and called later to see how it was. Luckily that must have been where we turned the corner, because ever so gradually after that we crept forward.

Each time I went to see him, my doctor was still worried. He kept thinking he was going to have to go back in but not wanting to just yet. I finally told him to stop with the worrying because we were turning the corner. He said "you could still lose the leg." And I said "I will worry about that if the time comes." I was trying to be positive and he was try to keep me prepared. I was already thinking what would I do if I lost my leg. And then decided I would not think that way. I would keep on eating healthy and taking the antibiotics.

Mind you eating anything was a chore, let alone trying to be healthy about it. I couldn't stomach much because I felt so lousy. The good news about all this was that I lost 41 pounds from February to July.

Actually had to go buy new clothes. And as much as I don't like doing that it is even harder to do when you feel like crap.

Time to publish. Next chapter soon.

So my story takes another interesting (?) turn

THIS BLOG IS SUPPOSED TO BE BEFORE THE ONE TITLED "WOW, WAS 2014 BUSY"

for some reason I can't seem to get it there.

On February 25th of last year, (2013) I finally had my right knee replaced. It was painful and hard work, but so much worth it. I could walk normally again; I could function at work better, etc.

After about 4 months the left knee finally said 'enough' and I asked about getting it done. I asked to be on the list and toward the end of November 2013 I was offered a date of mid January 2014. Great except it was a little too early for me. Ideally, I thought if I could get it done on the anniversary of the right one it would be easier to remember for future reference.

I was able to get a spot in February one week ahead of last year's surgery. So now starts the getting ready part. I start doing the physio that will be required afterwards. That way I feel the muscles have some kind of memory of what they will be doing. It worked last time and for my hip 7 years previously.

Our 28th wedding anniversary, Christmas and New Years came and went. No sooner are we into January when this package comes with all the information of places I have to go and doctors I have to see. Yay!!

One hospital to get medical tests done. Another for x-rays and meet the anesthetist. Then one to see the surgeon and one last talk about surgery then its just a week to surgery.

I have to admit I was not concerned about it. In fact I was looking forward to being able to stand and to walk:

• distances ! ! ! 
• up stairs ! ! ! 
• safely ! ! !
• confidently ! ! !

Wow, was 2014 busy ! ! ! ! ! ! !

I had my left knee replaced on February 18, 2014. Surgery went well, except that I noticed my leg looked like it was getting red. I mentioned it and was checked and sent home with some antibiotics. That was on Friday February 21st.

I was to have the bandage changed on Tuesday, the 25th, so I went to the clinic over near the hospital and she didn't like the look of my leg. She suggested I go to the hospital and have it checked out. I did.

I live downtown and had to go up 'the mountain' (we live in the Niagara Escarpment so we are in the 'lower' city and the 'mountain' is what we call the top of the hill) to the hospital where the surgery was performed. I caught the first bus and had to transfer downtown. The bus driver started moving the bus as I got up and I fell. Not all the way but far enough to scare me. I had pulled the bell and she claims she never heard it and then told me I have to pull it before the stop I want. She proceeded to yell at me some, and I back at her. She wouldn't let me off at the stop because she was 'past' it. She did, however, let me off around the corner. I only had to walk about 50 feet instead of the 5' I should have. PLUS I was already not doing well at all.

When I got back to the bus stop I felt like hell and must have looked it because a lady asked how I was. I told her briefly that I had to get to the hospital and she offered to pay for a cab for me.

Sally Braveheart says "oh, no. Its okay. I'll be at the hospital soon." (wish I had thought to get her name to thank her again). I needed that bit of kindness after the stupid bus driver.

I get to the hospital and go to the emergency department where I am looked at pretty quickly. I had a bit of a fever and the intern (or resident) had a look and wanted me to come back tomorrow when my surgeon was doing clinic.

The following day (Wednesday, the 26th) I went to the clinic and turned myself in. They put me in a room and had my surgeon look at me right away. Well, to say he was pissed is candy coating it. When he found out that I had come to the hospital the day before and NOT been admitted he was livid. I don't mean he foamed at the mouth or anything but he was angry. He called in the one that looked at me the day before and told him a few things that it was suggested he remember.

They then put me in a different room where more serious things happen and said he wanted me admitted again. I had to wait for a bed but they started IV antibiotics right away.  They also took several blood tests to see what was happening. (Your blood can't keep a secret.) My doctor came in several times to check on me and one of those times was when I found out how very bad this was.

I was told they may have to remove the knee, pack it with antibiotics, let that settle down, and then replace the knee again and pray it all went well. Or, I could lose my leg.

WHAT!!!!!

What do you mean lose my leg??? Turns out the infection can get into the bone in which case there aren't many choices.

I was taken to a room on the orthopedic wing and this time my room was a semi-private room and don't I get the guy voted 'most cranky, self centred bastard' in the world. You know he's lucky I let him live. He complained about everything. You would have thought he was friggin' royalty. In fact that will be a whole different blog.

I was in the hospital from the Wednesday until Saturday afternoon. On the Friday I had had a PIC line inserted which goes through a vein in your upper arm and right into your heart so the antibiotics are spread faster.

The problem with that is I am now high maintenance. The bag of antibiotics has to be changed every 12 hours. PLUS, someone has to change the dressing and monitor my condition and change and clean the PIC line and all that stuff. So I was assigned a home care nurse.

I was not looking forward to depending on people.

* * * * *

And I am tired now so will write some more tomorrow.