If you can’t eat it or play with it, just pee on it and walk away.
Wanna go out and play?
I’m a mystery writer–read my ‘about me’ page to find out more. Feel free to check out the excerpts from my Doggoned Mystery series and take a look at my favorite pictures of our garden and what was once our pond. The Bull Pen page has pictures of our bullies and friends.
Woke to The Curmudgeon on the phone again. “I’m down in the back yard. Can you come and help me up?”
Told him to wait for me to get dressed. I was NOT going outside in my PJs.
I quickly dressed, closed my bedroom window, turned on my bedroom AC, turned off the whole house fan, turned on the other upstairs air conditioner, closed the window in his room and headed downstairs. I closed the front door, turned on the AC in the living room, grabbed his walker, and headed out to the backyard to find him.
Didn’t have to go far. He and Lucy were right outside the back door. She was patiently sitting beside him.
He said she nudged him from time to time, “get up Daddy!” I manged to get him in the house without injuring my back again. Yay me.
He did his second injection of Rebif in the evening. Now we wait to see how he is with two injections under his belt.
Wow, strange weather yesterday. All around us, we saw on TV, that high winds took out trees, some looked twisted, so I’m betting it wasn’t only high winds.
We were lucky we just had monsoon rains and hail the size of golf balls.
Lucy had no desire to go outside in the monsoon no matter how badly she needed to pee. Poor girl held it for hours.
Gavin didn’t care, if he had to go, he went out and went.
The Curmudgeon napped through it all. He sort of looked like Lucy here.
So today The Curmudgeon started using Rebiff, interferon beta-1a. This is another injection drug, although this one is subcutaneous and given 3 times a week.
Da Momma sez dat if we getz much more wain we willz need an awk.
I habn’t gotted much chanz to wearz my hat and doggles wiff all ob de wain we habz.
I wishes dere waz sum way to send sum ob da wain out west weres dey needz it more.
If I beez lucky tomowwow I will getz to go foah a walkiez in da pawk. Mumma sez we will if we don’tz habs more ob da wain.
Went to bed at my, as of lately, usual time of 5:30 a.m. Woke to The Curmudgeon’s voice on the phone, “I’m down and I can’t get up.”
Leap out of bed, heart pounding, adrenaline rushing, cussing, mad.
I had less than three and one half hours of sleep.
I went to bed thinking, “Wow, I don’t have to run anywhere today, I can sleep in!”
Hurt my back again trying to get him up into his chair and later upstairs and into his bed.
Nope. There was no help.
Yep, I actually went knocking on doors to find some. No responses.
No, I won’t call 911 for help because it’s not life threatening and they frown on it.
Yes, I did tell him that if I hit the lottery I was outta here. Granted, I’d make sure he was well taken care of…
I just can’t do this much more without losing my sanity completely.
The idiot thugs from down the street decided it would be fun to come up to our end of the street and have a huge yelling, screaming, phone cameras rolling fight. At 2:30 a.m. Yes, I said TWO THIRTY in the MORNING.
I so did not wish to have a need to call the police, I so did not wish to watch The Curmudgeon come stumbling downstairs because of the commotion, and I so did not wish to get my adrenaline pumping.
Seems I am the only one around here with the guts to phone the police, the idiot thugs and the asshole younger shits have intimidated most. Not me.
As I told the Curmudgeon, “I already died once. They don’t scare me.”
I need that lottery win because they truly don’t scare me but they probably will be the death of me with the stress they cause around here.
I so need to get out of here and go live on a nice quiet beach.
We missed The Curmudgeon’s CT scan appointment yesterday because no one told us he had one. This is to recheck his lungs. We were told that we would get a call to tell us if they could schedule him in.
Never got a call.
We were home.
We did get a call to tell us he missed it.
Surprise, surprise. My allergy season has hit. All those roses in bloom around here have me coughing, sneezing, and wheezing. My eyes are watering and itchy. Oh yeah, fun time!
Don’t get me wrong, I love roses, but they don’t love me.
Quick, run out and buy stock in tissues.
Wow, we thought we were in for some real nasty weather.
Thunder crashed in the distance. The sky blackened. Wind picked up and made the tree branches dance.
We had a spatter of rain. The clouds moved off. The thunder still rumbled and complained in the distance.
I had to water my tomatoes and other potted plants.
That’s okay. South of us got whipped hard with high winds tearing down trees and heavy rain. We were spared even the cutting of the switch.
Two very bad days in a row for The Curmudgeon. I can’t wait for him to start the new medication in hopes that he improves on it.
His bad days mean I get to wake to a message on the phone from him saying he’s down and can’t get up. Cue adrenaline rush, pounding heart, and lots of cussing. I leap out of bed, dash down the stairs (nearly breaking my neck there), and manage to, once again, no, twice again, hurt my back getting him up. Both. Days.
I am exhausted clear to the bone, frustrated as hell, and one lottery win away from leaving.
Yeah, I said that.
Sometime next week, The Curmudgeon will begin a round of new medication. Rebiff. It was approved.
He’s not thrilled that it is an injectable he must give himself 3 times a week.
He hated the once a week one. However, that one was intramuscular whereas this one is subcutaneous. A much smaller and shorter needle.
He’s still very nervous about it. He never was one for needles.
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