Bitchy McBitcherson's Blog

Category: blahg

  • Cars that pass in the night

    Late last night I was driving home on a surface street, but one with a 50 MPH speed limit.  As I approached an intersection I could see that something was going on.  There were cars pulled to the right, and several people standing in the fast lane, some waving their hands to signal cars coming right at them to move over.  As I slowed for my turn, I could see the problem, a dog lying in the road.  I turned so my car was perpendicular to the lane, blocking it from oncoming traffic and putting on my hazards.  Pissed off oncoming traffic was slightly more interested in moving over to avoid slamming into my car than they were in just moving around the people waving at them.  The young woman was frantically calling animal control.  I tried telling her they wouldn’t help, but she didn’t understand.  She though that they would send a doggy ambulance of sorts.  I got out, wanting to encourage somebody to give the dog a ride to a 24 hour emergency clinic I knew was nearby.  I couldn’t put the dog in my car, it already had a dog in the back who did not have the temperament to make that workable.

    Unfortunately, the dog stopped breathing, before such a plan could be put into action.  While the young crying woman had a more and more frustrating conversation with animal control, who was, of course, not set up to do anything quickly about this problem.

    I got out of my car to find a beautiful female German Shepherd lying in the road, a motley crew strangers standing around her, several crying. I turned her collar until I could find tags, so the owner could be called.  A couple of the people had seen the dog running in the road, terrified.  They pulled over and tried to get her to come, but she was panicked.  They were there trying to save her when another driver didn’t see her in time, and despite slamming on his brakes, hit her.  Another was walking his dog and was standing there with his dog, helping to block traffic.  Soon a person from nearby homes joined us with a STOP/SLOW roadwork sign and a reflective vest to put in a little time to making things more visible.  Cars continued to speed past us, faster than the speed limit, aggressively swerving at the last minute but making it clear they were not pleased at being inconvenienced.

    We got her name off the tag and talked to her about how good and beautiful she was, and waited for the owner who had been reached with that number on her tag.  He had just walked in the door and discovered her missing, and then the phone rang…

    He pulled up to the intersection and came over, already crying, but hopeful.  She was gone, but it didn’t stop him from falling to his knees and begging her to get up.  He was lost and didn’t know what to do.  The young woman explained that she had tried.  That they’d stayed with her.  We helped to load her into his trunk.  He apologized to her for having to lift her unceremoniously.  I told him that we could still take her to the emergency vet nearby, that they could arrange for cremation.  He asked if I was sure they were open, so I called them to verify.  They were.  I described where it was. He thanked me. He still looked shell shocked, so I asked if he wanted me to meet him at the vet so he wouldn’t be there alone.  A look of sheer confusion passed over his face.  It was clear that he wanted to take me up on that offer, and that every bit of social training had taught him to say, “No, that’s okay. I’ll be fine.”  “I’ll meet you there,” I said.  “I’ll pull around and you can follow me to the hospital.”

    She had jumped the fence of the 4th of July, panicked by illegal fireworks.  He recovered her on the 4th, but something had made her jump again.

    The group of strangers dispersed into the night, and I pulled my car around in front of him and led him to the pet hospital.  We went inside to get employees to come help us.  I got some paper towels to do a little bit of cleaning of the blood on his car, just so that it wouldn’t be staring hard at him in the light of day.  I waited while he filled out paperwork, and told them he wanted a wooden box for her ashes.  He told me of the three wooden boxes he had at home, all German Shepherds, but the others had all passed from old age.  There was another German Shepherd waiting at home, who would be so confused when she never came back.  He said goodbye to her, and then said goodbye to me, hugging me tightly and thanking me.

    Then I drove home with Mindy in my car, to be greeted by Watson at the door, and soon the sound of foster puppies wiggling in their crates filled my ears.

    RIP beautiful girl. I’m so sorry you didn’t make it home safely.  I know you were loved.

  • You Can Pry My Booze Out of My Cold Old Dead Hand

    The first Perimenopausal Problem I searched for some help with was the alcohol intolerance.  The joke there is obvious, but the truth is it was one of the first symptoms that showed up strongly and I had zero idea it was a symptom associated with perimenopause until after other symptoms started showing up.

    The first time it happened, I just thought I had gotten sick.  It took four occurrences before I associated consuming alcohol with the reaction.  I think if I drank more often I’d have suspected it faster.  Basically the symptom was that anything more than 2 delicate sips of alcohol would lead to raging hangover symptoms has if I’d just gone on a bender, and the symptoms would start in less than two hours after the drink.  This is despite long having learned to drink plenty of water to stay hydrated, and also to eat good “drunk” food with alcohol.

    The obvious solution was to quit drinking.  I cut way back, but I wasn’t really interested in quitting.  I don’t drink often, but I do really enjoy wine and cocktails, and I enjoy so few things it seemed like quite a shame to give it up completely.

    So I started searching for solutions and trying things.  I eventually discovered that if I took two Activated Charcoal pills prior to having a drink, and took two more every two hours until I stopped drinking (there was A LOT of pills taken the day I went wine tasting, although I drank very little volume I was drinking all day), it got rid of the reaction for me.  If you have a similar problem, look at other “hangover treatments” that might help with your alcohol intolerance, but always look for possible interactions with other things you take.   For instance, the charcoal pills should not be taken a the same time as other medications because it will lower the effectiveness of them.

    As time passed and I found out it was one of a myriad of perimenopausal symptoms I was being tortured by, I have discovered things to help ease many of those symptoms.  It is possible I no longer need the help of the charcoal, but I’m not willing to risk it.

  • Year of the Horse

    So far 2014 has been a bit rougher than I was hoping for, but perhaps it will turn the corner with the Lunar New Year.

    I’ve been doing a lot of editing work over the past several months, video editing, a novel, short stories, website content.  I’ve been working a lot on other’s visions, and am doing nothing with my own visions.  Some days it is difficult to even have visions.

    Today is not that day though.  Today I need to do a bunch of practical things like tend to an my injured shoulder and deal with a bunch of site security issues, and keep working on projects for other people.

    I don’t want to post this because there is no meat to the post, but then it will be just like all the other days when I don’t have enough to say, or what I have to say is worth bothering to post.  Today I am pretending that today is different.  Hopefully the first of many different days.  The truth is 2013 sucked in ways I still haven’t adjusted to.  The other truth is that as difficult as some hours, days, weeks, years are – I have some truly amazing people in my life.

  • Gilbert

     

    Gilbert – isn’t he adorable?

     

    This is Gilbert at 11 weeks old.  He was turned into ACT V after suffering from a dog attack which caused bite wounds and multiple broken bones.  He is a healthy, happy puppy overall, but needed surgery to set the breaks.  He has turned out to be a little booger who has so far found a way around every “cone of shame” contraption that they’ve put on him, requiring multiple fixes to stitches, bandages, and the external hardware that is part of what is holding his bones in place while they mend.  Yes, I am particularly sympathetic having previously owned a dog who was a Hou(n)dini of cone escape.

    He’s healing great now thanks to ACT V, but he could definitely use some sponsors to help pay for his medical expenses.

     If you can spare a few dollars, every bit helps, and if you fill in “Gilbert” in the SPONSOR a pet field of the online donation form, all the money will go directly to his care.  You can also send a check to the address listed here and designate the donation to Gilbert’s care.  ACT V is a 501 (c) 3 non-profit.

  • Ragtastic

    I got my first period over 30 years ago. I had been told “the facts” and literature handed out in school included lovely positive affirmations like, “You may have heard negative slang terms, like ‘the curse’, but menstruation is a natural part of life and being a woman, and it isn’t anything to be afraid of.” I approached ‘becoming a woman’ with an open mind and solid scientific biological knowledge.

    It didn’t take long for me to figure out they’d been lying sacks of shit, and I spent decades looking forward to menopause and the time my body would knock that shit off. I heard about hot flashes, which sounded like hell, especially considering how much I hated being hot, but mostly what I knew had to do with NO MORE PERIODS. Ya-fucking-hoo.

    And stupid me, I just sort of assumed that somewhere between having that bitch like clockwork, and never having that bitch again, she’d just fade away, like a friend who has found another friend to spend time with.

    So imagine my delight to discover that the time between normal menstruation and menopause – PERIMENOPAUSE (which can last up to 10 years) is just another giant “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little cat too” from that evil witch of a universe. Really, who wouldn’t love symptoms like – I don’t know – MORE FREQUENT PERIODS as a way to ease on down the road to never having them again. It is just what I was always hoping for.

    For fun, let’s list some of the other symptoms:

    • Hot flashes – Yeah, I’d heard of this, but it was always portrayed as a wave of elevated body temperature, maybe some sweating. Turns out it can also just be being hot all the time, and not in the good way. Remember how much I hate being too warm? So for old age my body is just going to have me be too warm even when it is 60 degrees in the house? Fuck you, body.
    • Worsening PMS – Wow. That’s just adorable What about those of us who already had PMDD? Awesome.
    • Increased Irritability – Have you met me?  I’ve already got irritability covered. My entire life is an exercise in rage management, and increased irritability does not make this any easier.
    • PERIODS – Irregular periods; shorter, lighter periods; heavier periods, flooding; phantom periods, shorter cycles, longer cycles, more clots, mid-cycle spotting – ARGH! So many options, and of course my body goes ahead with HEAVIER, FLOODING, SHORTER CYCLES and just generally more fucking unpleasantness.  Because you don’t just want to have a regular period to hate, you sometimes want to suddenly find yourself standing in a surprise puddle of blood when you didn’t even get to stab anyone.
    • Crashing fatigue – This is super entertaining for somebody whose entire self-worth is measured by how much shit she can accomplish.
    • Depression – HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
    • Feelings of dread, apprehension, doom, anxiety – My super hero alter ego was already Worst Case Scenario Girl – so perhaps you can extrapolate how fun this is.
    • Difficulty concentrating, disorientation, mental confusion, disturbing memory lapses – Remember the self-worth measurement? Well at least I can still remember all the ways I am a failure. What I can’t do is remember what I walked into the kitchen to get.
    • Mood swings – I can swing from annoyed, to furious, to annoyed, to depressed in the space of 5 minutes. Sadly all this swinging doesn’t burn as many calories as you might think. Swinging with a dagger would probably be better exercise. Stabercize.
    • Trouble sleeping through the night – I’ve already been battling Insomnia since puberty, but it turns out Insomnia had some weapons in reserve. Because lack of sleep will definitely help my mood. Good times.
    • Incontinence, especially upon sneezing, laughing; urge incontinence – In case you don’t know what this word means, it means inability to control your bladder. Because it isn’t enough to have your bladder ruined by having a baby, with constant exercises to improve that bit of stupidity. You finally get to get older and just have everything go to piss because your body hates you, now more than ever.
    • Aching, sore joints, muscles and tendons, increased tension in muscles – A total party. It’s not enough that I’ve been suffering from chronic pain since I was 10 years old, now I spread a layer of new pain frosting on top of all that old pain.
    • Headache change: increase or decrease – I’ll give you one guess which option my body chose.
    • Hair loss or thinning, head, pubic, or whole body; increase in facial hair – Yep, thin pathetic hair on your head and the ability to grow a full beard. It’s quite an upgrade.
    • Changes in body odor – This is so disturbing. It isn’t even necessarily about it getting worse, just changing, so that the person standing closest to you all the damn time no longer smells familiar.  Gives the creepy sense of there being a stranger in the room when I am sitting all alone. I guess eventually it will just be that ubiquitous “old lady smell”, so at least I have that to look forward to.
    • Alcohol intolerance – Spectacular, so I can’t even drown my increased annoyance in booze because alcohol makes me sick. Yay!

     

    Don’t worry. There are lots more possible symptoms.  Cool shit like heart palpitations.  I just didn’t have time to write about all of them.  Clearly my days are numbered, and I need to spend most of them  looking for my… those metal things that open the door to the car, which I parked somewhere around here, I’m sure.

  • Don’t Worry, Be Stabby

    Here’s a little song I wrote
    You might want to sing it note for note
    Don’t worry, be stabby
    If anyone should give you trouble
    Don’t have to stab them once, make it double
    Don’t worry, be stabby
    Don’t worry, be stabby now

    Don’t worry, be stabby, Don’t worry, be stabby
    Don’t worry, be stabby, Don’t worry, be stabby

    Someone posts something makes you see red
    Just stab them a little, don’t make them dead
    Don’t worry, be stabby
    You read comments, now your head aches
    Get out the forks, ice picks, and stakes
    Don’t worry, be stabby
    Don’t worry, be stabby

    Don’t worry, be stabby, Don’t worry, be stabby
    Don’t worry, be stabby, Don’t worry, be stabby

  • The Deed is Done

    Friday was the day. Our only child moved into her dorm room. The mixture and intensity of emotions is overwhelming. There is mental conflict and turmoil.

    We spent 18.5 years working toward this goal. We did not have her in order to own her. We raised her with the goal of sending her out into the world to live her own life successfully, and this is a very important phase of that eventual goal. It is a Good(tm) thing, so why does it feel so craptacular?

    The voices inside my head are fighting. There is one that keeps wailing, “This is the worst thing EVER!” while the other voices stare with disdain and correct the wailing voice harshly.

    It isn’t a bad thing. Not at all. But it is a big, big change, and I am not very comfortable with it yet.

    It took 18.5 years, but it also only took a minute, and my entire life.

    Now we are at home, and she is in another city, 300 miles away, and life feels unsteady for all of us. It is a new frontier.

    Willow is not amused.

  • I Feel Sad

  • Whole Lotta Nothing

    Ever the one to jump on every trend that goes by (if you can’t hear the sarcasm here, you should probably go read a different blog), I decided a while back to give The Whole 30 a try.

    Well, not exactly.

    I’d seen it mentioned approximated 19208934293859048549 times on Facebook, and somebody had asked one of my facebook friends that was on it a very basic question, so in a moment of Let Me Google That For You, Moron, I looked it up and answered, so I was aware of it. I didn’t really care.

    Then I read an article, The Boy With a Thorn in His Joints, and suddenly I became interested in… something. The article definitely doesn’t talk about The Whole 30, but it talks about food and joint pain, and well, I’ve got a whole lot of joint pain, going back three decades. More distressing to me is the level of chronic pain my daughter is in. Since The Whole 30 is basically an elimination diet (although it allows a few things I think we probably should have tried to give up too. Anyhow, knowing it is easier to get people on board when there is a website with instructions, I presented The Whole 30 as the plan to my family, and we agreed to do it. It took a while to get started because we needed to try to find 30 days when my husband would be in the country. This is more difficult than it seems like it should be.

    Yesterday was day 30. My husband ended up unexpected leaving the country on day 28. See? More difficult than one might think. He made it through day 29 via snacks brought on to the plane, and then just tried to do his best on the final day.

    So – how was it?

    I totally want to be typing about how much better I feel. Unfortunately it just isn’t true. I feel better than when I eat like crap, of course, but I don’t feel any better than when I eat my normal version of “good”. Over and above how I normally prefer to eat, the major differences were giving up dairy (I’ve never done that before), giving up gluten (I often avoid grains, but have never worried about small amounts of gluten in things), and giving up soy (which I never really paid attention to, but is in fuck all everything, ugh).

    So, now we start adding things back in.. One thing at a time, to look for a reaction, treating it more as an allergy/intolerance elimination study. Today is the first day that I can add something back in, and… I just don’t care. I mean, I am super glad it is over because it is a major inconvenience to avoid all gluten and soy. but today I mostly just feel like crap, so I’ve felt decidedly disinterested so far. Definitely not the less pain, more energy feeling I was hoping for.

  • I’m Living

    Today in the car my daughter and I were discussing an assignment she needs to do, a series of photos based around poem or book, with a theme of “family”.

    I told her, “Oh, you could do that famous children’s book.”

    “I don’t know which book you mean,” she replied.

    I couldn’t respond because I had burst into tears.

    Okay… so THAT was stable.

    I pulled myself together and attempted to continue the conversation and immediately burst into tears again.

    WTF?  Back off emotional breakdown, I don’t have time for this.

    The book I was referring to is Love You Forever, by Robert Munsh.  Clearly the recent events with my father are shoving my parents’ mortality down my throat until I am choking on it.

    Things continue to be emotionally and mentally difficult in my life for a variety of reasons, and the health of my father is just one of those.  The recent heat wave has also been brutal on me, of course.  On the good news front, my frequency and severity of migraines is getting better under control.  Working hard on remembering and appreciating the bits that are going well.

    Deep breaths.

    But all day and into the night, a verse keeps echoing in my mind.

    “I’ll love you forever,
    I’ll like you for always,
    as long as I’m living
    my daddy you’ll be.”