(No Longer New) Midlife Mommy

We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Programming To Bring You . . .

Lice!  Yes, lice.  Creepy, skreepy, yucky, ucky, ooey, gooey (gooey?), m*ther f*cking LICE!

Shortly before Christmas, DD's principal notified the parents that there had been a case of lice in DD's room.  After that, DD and her classmates were subjected to daily head searches (from both the school and required of us, as though we actually knew what we were looking for - um, ew?), bagging of her personal possessions, enforced personal distance, a requirement that we put her hair up (which she freaking hates), and a demand that we wash her coat and accessories on an almost daily basis.  Which, of course, made for an overall skeevy feeling whenever we walked into her classroom.

It happened again in January.  Lather.  Rinse.  And repeat in March. Needless to say, I was p*ssed.  Because really?  How freaking hard could it be to get rid of a case of lice?  We'd heard it was the same kids over and over, with the occasional new kid infected - so who were the parents who weren't working at it hard enough?  (I know, not fair, but seriously - three times?)

In an effort to eradicate the lice, the school brought in the equivalent of a nuclear bomb - a professional lice brigade!  Who inspected everyone's head.  And guess what?  Ah, yes.  They found a nit in DD's head.  DD and three other children were forced to sit in the principal's office until mom and/or dad came to get them.  How embarrassing.  (And totally unnecessary, really, because helloooo . . . this has been going on for months.)  The third bout with lice turned out to be, well, not exactly a charm for DD.

When I arrived at the school, after I hugged my poor daughter who I imagine was feeling a bit like Typhoid Mary,* the principal handed me an index card with a taped "sample" from DD's head.  It was a nit, but holy cow - it was about half the size of a typed "." and completely unlike any of the pictures that I'd Googled.  Oh, and did I mention that it was also brown and matched her hair color exactly?  I now know that I would need a magnifying glass to see a nit.  They told us that we could keep the card as a souvenir.  Yay! 

Have I mentioned lately that even though DD has her own room, she still sleeps with us?  Next to me?  So, yes, I was little freaked out.  But, I'd already learned from the lice brigade's website that they offered a heat dryer treatment that was guaran-effing-teed to get rid of lice and eggs.  FDA approved.  One treatment.  One clean up.  All gone.  The price was a little steep ($145), but it included a lot of product, the head inspections (for everyone), and the heat treatment (for one person). 

The lice brigade's "boutique" (not their real name, of course) was located about an hour away from us.  I called them on my way to pick DD up.  Can you see us today?  How about in an hour?  Is an hour good for you?  I couldn't get an appointment until 2:30 that day, and it wasn't soon enough.  I told DH that he would need to meet us there, and everyone was going to get a head check.

All the way there, my head itched (and honestly, it has been itching a little bit the week before).  I was absolutely convinced that it was total party time on MM - because I could feel them moving people!!  Ewwww.  But, after the inspection, it turned out that DD was newly infected, because she had about 20 nits, nothing living, and DH and I were clean.

I thought that can't be true!  But it was.  I apparently just had a dry scalp that day.  And all movement that I felt was all in my head, not on my head.  I asked if I could be treated anyway, just in case.  The woman looked at me as if I were a bit nuts, and said that a lice treatment wouldn't be necessary for me, because, you know, I didn't actually have lice. 

DD loved the blow trying treatment.  Afterward, they put some yucky stuff in her hair and wrapped it in a plastic bag, which I think was supposed to dissolve any nit glue in her hair so that all debris would be washed away (it looked gross).  She only needed to leave it on for ten minutes, but our drive was much longer than that.  We left with an enzyme that supposedly dissolved both eggs and bugs that you could spray on furniture if you wanted, a super duper nit comb that I didn't need (because they combed DD's hair out), as well as some repellent (which aggravated my asthma for a week and totally wasn't worth it - I think it was made of eucalyptus and citronella).

I did learn some interesting things about these little effers, since we spent quite a bit of time at the lice boutique that day and I didn't have anything else to do except ask 50 million questions:

• Lice like clean hair, and maybe one of the reasons why they are being reported frequently these days is because we wash our hair more than we used to.  I do not ever remember hearing about lice when I was in school, but I also didn't wash my hair every day either - maybe this is why we didn't hear about them?
• Lice really can't move around very well when they aren't in your hair.  If you've ever seen a picture of one, it makes sense.  They have little claw like legs in the front, and a big butt - but no back legs!  You could point and laugh if one fell onto a counter; they aren't going anywhere.  It would be like having no legs and having to crawl around using your elbows.  Really inefficient.
• The over the counter products don't work, because hellooooo, they haven't changed the formulation in years, and the lice laugh - yes, they laugh - when you coat them with this junk.  (I just threw in the laugh part; I think they probably just smirk a bit.)  Honestly, based on what other moms have told me, I think that it's the daily use of the nit comb and good house cleaning - more than the over the counter insecticide - that gets rid of them.
• The forced clothes washing?  Hah!  More laughter from the lice, because they can old their breath for up to eight hours.  They could care less if you wash your clothes.  Wash them twice!  (Snicker.)
• Now as for the drying part, well, they don't like that very much.  All you need to do is use the dryer on timed high heat for 30 minutes, and presto!  Bugs and eggs - all gone.  (Insert maniacal laughter here, because I am empowered now.)  Things that can't be put in the dryer can just be put in a plastic bag for two weeks, or in the freezer for 24 hours.
• Lice are transmitted from one person to another through the obvious - sharing hats, touching heads, sharing hairbrushes - but they are also fabulous trapeze artists.  They actually can swing from an infected head to a non-infected head in a flash, and the hair barely has to touch.  Apparently, they are less inclined to trapeze over to a new head if the new head has the stinky repellent on it - kind of like you might not be inclined to walk into a kitchen where they were cooking  something that you really hate eating.  (I say that the repellent is "stinky" just because it makes me wheeze; I suppose it doesn't smell all that offensive to someone without asthma.)
• Head lice do not spread disease.
• According to our state's website, you don't have to empty the vacuum after your home clean up, unless of course you want to (they can't crawl around, remember?)
• The whole point of the clean up is to pick up any hairs that have fallen out of an infected head that might contain a nit, because the lice can hatch any time up to two weeks later.  So, I really didn't need to freak the f*ck out because I stupidly put my purse on the floor at the lice boutique in the treatment room - just a quick whisk with a lint remover was all that was necessary.
• Lice really can't live for very long away from a host.  They say that they can live up to 48 hours without a meal, but our state's website suggested that it really is only a matter of hours or even less.

I'd emailed our pediatrician right after we heard that there had been a third infestation but before I knew that DD was affected, because I've always felt that forewarned is forearmed.  She suggested something that actually suffocates the lice and is inexpensive to use (not an insecticide).  But the downside of that would be the daily clean up for the two week period, because the nits could still hatch.  I prefer the heat treatment, frankly. 

It's taken me awhile to write this post, and right now, we are at the point where we are ready to take our things out of plastic bags, and this is the end of the last week to wear her hair up.  Oddly, DD's been asking when she can go back to the lice boutique again, because she thought the blow dryer treatment was so much fun!

Eh.  I think I'll pass on that.

 

 

* - Though Typhoid Mary wasn't nearly as cooperative as DD.

Hello Out There

I appreciate all of the kind words and comments.  And I'm still around.  I just haven't been visiting here very much because I haven't wanted to think about my feelings.  Much healthier to push them down and ignore them!  (Not.  Well, at least it's easier.  Mostly.)

Not much to report.  I was hopeful about the embryo adoption, but I don't know if that's going to come through or not.  The person who made the wonderful offer has some really devastating issues in her life to address at the moment, and I understand that this isn't a priority.  I don't want to be a pest, even though I still feel on pins and needles about the opportunity.

You know, I've always been an action oriented kind of person.  If there is something I want to accomplish, then I go after it and get it done.  I can be pretty focused and driven.  A mountain you say?  Well, I'll go around it.  Or through it.  Or over it.  Or blast it out of the way.  But I can't do anything, because the ball isn't in my court.  And that's hard for me.  The only action that I could take right now is to choose a new donor and start over.  But I don't think I have it in me to do that.

Sometimes, and especially lately, I've been wondering what it would have been like to have lived a different life, one where I would have married young, had no fertility issues, had my two babies (or more!), and enjoyed getting older as I watched them grow and give me grandchildren.  Instead, here I am, hyperventilating and sad, still thinking about the child that I lost and still jealous of all the babies and bellies around me.  Recently, I learned that someone at work will be a dad in April, which is the month that my baby would have been born.  My daughter's after-care teacher is due in June.  It's hardly seems fair, though I know that life isn't fair, and I know that there are people with a lot more sorrow than I have.  A friend of mine just lost his precious granddaughter of 13 months.  Unimaginable.  But my sadness for him doesn't make my pain less.  I miss my own baby dammit.

At some level, I'm mad at DH.  On the one hand, he's gone along with all of the cycles, so maybe it's unfair to have these feelings.  After all, he did put up with all of the bullsh*t that was part and parcel of all of that.  But, he's also fought me tooth and nail each step of the way.  No interest in adoption.  Argued against Clomid, because it could cause multiple births.  Argued against IUI with injections, same reason.  Argued against IVF, same reason.  Argued against the first donor cycle, same reason.  Argued against using the left over embryos, this time because he was ostensibly too old (that argument has continued).  Oh, and we always had to transfer only one embryo where possible, which reduced the possibility of success (since they were always three-day embryos).  Surprise!  We haven't gotten younger with all the arguing and delay.  So yes, still p*ssed about all of that, even though I think he's the best dad in the world and would love another child (and yes, he does admit that he would love another child, and he's tired of talking about this, and we should just do it already dammit).  I think part of it may be due to the fact that DH lost his father when DH was 17, and it also may be due to the fact that he's the most involved dad I know.  It still makes me laugh when my own father tells DH that DH is a much better dad that he was.

My daughter is such a beautiful little girl.  She's beautiful, smart, graceful, kind, and has a delightful sense of humor.  I still can't believe that I get to be her mother.  I don't ever mean to sound ungrateful about that, and in my fantasies about having had my babies early, she is part of that dream.  But I want her to have a brother or sister.  I am enjoying her so much, and I know that another child would bring even more joy.

It still makes me want to cry.  (Sh*t, I do cry, who am I kidding?)  So I push it out of my thoughts.  When I do think about it, it feels like the window of opportunity is closing for me, this time for good.  I'm not even sure why I'm feeling that way right now, because I've always been one of those people who believe that you should follow your heart where it leads, even if it isn't where or when you expect.  My parents' next-door neighbor fostered an older child when she was in her 50's and eventually adopted her long after her two boys were grown, so you just never know what might happen.  (Of course, their next-door neighbor was [and still is] quite a b*tch, so now she has three children who wouldn't walk across the street to do you-know-what to her if she were on fire, but I digress.)

Wouldn't it be grand to have a crystal ball that works to know how this will all turn out in the end?

 

Yawn

Nothing much going on here.  Waiting for my period to start, though I hope that it doesn't start before Wednesday of next week.  Just too hectic for me next week to try to schedule in blood and an ultrasound.  It really is kind of odd not to have a pill month, or to be on Lupron.  There is a rhythm with those drugs, and they make it easy to count down the days.

It seems like there are sweet little babies all around lately, and I see them everywhere I go.  One of my coworkers said that her sister is going to have triplets(!).  I think they're in shock, but my coworker said she'd take one, and I would take one so, problem solved.  (Unfortunately, that's not how it works.  Sigh.)

It's a shame that we can't just turn time back and do all those things with my daughter again.  Ah, the sweet baby-ness.  It's intoxicating.  As is the one year old, the two year old, the three year old, and so on.  They are all great seasons.  I hope that we have the chance to do it all again with a new personality.  You know, sometimes when DD is lying on my chest and looks up just right, her eyes look exactly the same as they did when she was a newborn and silently inquiring if it was time for her next milk snack (because after all, it had been a whole two hours . . .).

DD has her first dance recital next week (part of the hectic-ness).  Because she loses interest in things pretty quickly, we enrolled her in community education dance classes (only $80 for eleven lessons).  She's in a ballet/jazz class, and she seems to like it (especially the leaping; she really, really likes the leaping).  I was kind of surprised at the cost of the recital costume - $50 for something that she will never, ever wear again.  Yet, this is definitely not going to be a Hollywood show.  And that's OK.  I played a musical instrument when I was growing up, and there were always the nerve-wracking state and national competitions.  I suppose some people thrive on that, but it really wasn't for me.  Fortunately, my parents weren't task masters, and they didn't try to live vicariously through me.  But still, those contests were stressful.

Otherwise, nothing really exciting.  Though I did receive a genealogy Christmas present in April.  My cousin (father's first cousin) loaned me an album of photos from my dad's side of the family.  My dad's immediate family didn't take very many pictures when he was growing up.  My cousin told me that she would loan me the album so that I could scan the photos (another scanning project - love the results, but hate the process.  All I do is scan; in fact, I'm scanning as I'm typing this). 

I picked up the album on my way to my father's house for the never-ending Sunday cleaning project, and it gave him pleasure to look at it.  There was a picture of him in a horribly dorky little outfit, as well as the only picture that we are aware of in his military uniform.  (He really, really hated the army.  He was drafted and wished the days would go by much more quickly than they did. Consequently, he refused to sit for a professional photo in his uniform.)

We finished up our work a little early, and I suggested that my father look through his massive collection of keys that he'd been amassing as we've been cleaning to see if he could find the key to my grandfather's World War I trunk (which trunk has been sitting, unopened, at my parent's house for years and years).  We found the key and opened the trunk.  I was expecting to see a lot of moth-eaten uniforms, but instead, we found a treasure trove of photos and old letters.  I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.  Now, I just need to find the time to actually look through these things.  (And scan them, of course.  I wonder if I will be finished scanning before I die.)

That's really about all there is.  I know I've been absent from here for quite awhile.  Just nothing very interesting going on.  Not even any good DD stories lately.

Happy Mother's Day to those of you who are mothers.  To those of you who want to be, I pray that this will be your last year with empty arms.  And, if you are lucky enough to have a mom, do hold her tight.

I Double Dog Dare You

to top this rejection:

I invited my husband to join Facebook, and he sent me an e-mail saying "no thank you." 

My husband. Refused to join and friend me.

This is the same man who said that if I ever sent him a text message, he would cancel his cell phone service.  Not that he can get a text message, mind you, because his phone is huge, weighs about three pounds, has a telescoping plastic antenna, and looks as though it was transported here from the 80's.

Luddite.

TMI

Discussing financial issues with your father, and getting irritated that you are thrust into the role of adult sometimes (when you were perfectly comfortable in the role of kid, thank you)?  Not fun.

Giving up all of your personal free time for the week to go through your mother's things because she was a hoarder, with no end in sight over a year later?  Even less fun.

But finding a boatload of condom wrappers in your mother's old nightstand while your father watched you open the nondescript bags?  Not exactly priceless.

Still A Seahorse (And Other News)

DD has really enjoyed her swimming lessons.  She (uncharacteristically) doesn't moan, whine, or complain about going.  But, we have noticed that she's not as advanced as most of the other kids (the class has ranged from 4-6 kids on any given Saturday, most of whom seem just a bit older than her), though I get the feeling that these other kids have been learning for awhile.  DD is new to all of this stuff. 

Happily, we also noticed that there is at least one other child in the world who whines more than DD.  Last Saturday, her dad finally had enough.  Both her parents come to lessons.  They have a nine month old, and her daddy paddles around the pool with her during her swimming lesson.  He's around, and he's already wet, so he helps his older child out when she needs it.  But last Saturday, she was so obnoxious that she wouldn't do or try anything without daddy helping and without a lot of crying.  So, dad finally took her out of the pool, dried her off, got her dressed, and they went home (kudos, dad!  That's the only way they learn.)  But I digress.

We received DD's "report card" last Saturday.  She met most of the goals, but there were some things that she just hasn't been able to do.  For example, she is afraid to put her face into the water and blow bubbles.  So, they suggested that if we wish to continue, we should sign her up to be a "Seahorse" again.

You know, I honestly don't care.  I don't see it as a failure, and we are not in some sort of competition.  But I have to say, I really like DD's outlook on this whole thing.  Her approach?  "Mommy, I get to be a Seahorse again!  Yeah!"  So, yeah.  I salute her.  The only disappointment that I have is really selfish -- had she moved on to the next class, we could sleep in a half hour later!  Ah well.  Someday.

Moving on.  DH and I had two date nights last week.  Go us.  They had a parents night out at her school on Thursday, which I didn't pay attention to until the last minute, but they let us sign up anyway.  Honestly, there were only about five kids signed up.  I don't quite get that -- a night out?  With my husband?  At a restaurant?  Without paper place mats?  Sign me up!  I don't quite understand the other parents, though the fact that they do these on a work night makes them not quite as fun as they could be on a Friday, but I understand that it is hard to get people willing to watch the kids.  And, this Saturday, DD's godmother watched DD while we went out to dinner again, though that was preplanned.  Unfortunately, we had to cut that short, because we are trying to finalize our estate plan.  DD's godmother is her alternate guardian, and holds my health care power of attorney (after DH, of course).  So, we ended the evening talking about yucky adult stuff.

I would really love to give you some news about our donor cycle, but there isn't much.  We have paid the broker's fee ($1,000), the donor's fee ($4,000), and fees for many of the donor's lab tests, but they don't really keep us up to date.  I haven't even started Lupron yet, though I was supposed to start on 3/25.  Apparently, the donor (who normally has a 28 day cycle), had a late visit from Aunt Flo this month.  Go figure.  So, I was told to start a new pack of pills (active pills), without taking the inactive pills for a week.  So, I haven't seen Aunt Flo yet, but hopefully, the donor has.  We're still waiting for some news.  I should call the clinic and just ask, but it is difficult to make those calls at work, during the clinic's regular hours.  I've mentioned before that there is no audio privacy at work.  We are supposed to be moving to a new place soon, so I hope that changes.  I do miss having walls that go up to the ceiling.

My diet is going slowly, but it's going.  I've lost 12 pounds so far, at least as of the last time I weighed myself.  I'm not obsessive about it, and I cheat a lot.  I don't follow the Nutrisystem program at all on the weekends.  But, at least the scale is going in the right direction, and my clothes are getting loose.  So far, so good.

Last, but not least, we've been introduced to an uninvited guest in our home.  A couple of weeks ago, after DD had gone to bed, one of the cats came rushing into the den.  The next thing we heard was "squeak!  squeak!  squeak!"  Yes, you guessed correctly.  It was a f*cking mouse.  A mouse.  In my house!!!  The cat had it in her mouth, but she lost it.  It got away because she was doing what cats do -- catching it and letting it go.

You know, at first I was all "oh, let's catch it humanely and let it go."  And then I read about all the really bad things that you can catch from mice, for example, hanta virus.  After I read that, I changed my tune and bought some traps.  Quick and painless.  Oddly, we haven't seen any mouse droppings, and we haven't seen the mouse again either.  So, lazy people that we are, we haven't put out the traps.  I also bought a spray bottle and some bleach, because you are not even supposed to touch mouse droppings without spraying them with a bleach solution and letting it sit for five minutes (I did a lot of research after seeing that darned thing).  Hopefully, the cats, the mouse, and any of her friends have come to an understanding -- with the understanding being that they need to move somewhere else.

And, that's all the news.  That's fit to print, anyway.

Checking In

Wow, it's been a busy few days.  Last Friday, we went to our first concert in the park for the season.  We missed the very first one because DH wasn't feeling well.  This concert was kind of eclectic, with all different kinds of music.  DD really, really enjoyed it.  She went off onto the grass and started dancing alone, but when they asked people to come forward to dance in a conga line, she dragged me by the hand so that we could dance.  Well, actually I danced.  DD decided that she wanted me to carry her around and dance at the same time.  We sometimes call her "Miss 28 pounds," and quite honestly, she is getting a little big for all the carrying she would like us to do.  But it was fun anyway.

On Saturday, our handyman asked us to be his guests at a party.  The party was at a house on a lake, and a fireworks display was planned for later in the evening.  They had chocolate chip cookies and a trampoline in the backyard, so DD thought that she'd died and gone to heaven. 

She was very excited about the fireworks -- until they started.  Then, she buried her head in DH's shirt and wouldn't look up.  This went on for quite awhile, and no amount of encouragement worked.  It was really kind of miserable, because it was kind of cold and windy, and the main reason for being there -- so DD could enjoy her first fireworks -- made both of us kind of want to just throw in the towel and leave.  Finally, I asked DH to pass her over, and by some small miracle, I got her to look up at the fireworks.  She was completely enthralled and watched until the end.  After that, it was all she could talk about, so I guess it was a success.

On Sunday, we celebrated my nephew's birthday.  He's growing like a weed -- he turned 14 this month.  I simply cannot believe that he is growing up so fast.  It seems like yesterday that he was a little toddler in glasses (they looked cute on him, though he has outgrown them).  He's such a serious kid now.  He kind of reminds me of a future engineer.  DD really enjoyed playing with K, her seven year old cousin.  They went into the bedroom and played quietly.  It was very strange not to have to watch her.  I peeked in on them a couple of times, but they weren't getting into any trouble.  I could really get used to relaxing and enjoying the company of adults again.  I wonder if this is what it's like in families with two kids -- though I suppose that the downside would be the fighting.

Yesterday, we had a little 4th of July party for family and friends.  I've mentioned before that our street is on the parade route, and the 4th of July parade is about an hour long.  I don't think it was as good this year as in the past (only one marching band, and lots and lots of advertisements from local businesses).  They started the parade at the other end of town again, so I don't think that the kids got as much candy as they otherwise would have.  When the parade starts at the end of our street, my niece and nephews can fill up an entire plastic bag full of goodies.

But, it was OK.  After it was over, the kids couldn't wait to get into the pool, so we obliged.  Later on, it was hot dogs and hamburgers for all.  My parents were there, and I'm even more worried about my mother than I have been.  She had a hard time breathing, with very little exertion.  She used an inhaler, but I don't think that it helped much.  And, even though the day was sunny and the temperature around 85, she wore a fleece jacket that she kept zipped up.  She said that she was cold, and that she's often been cold since her bypass surgery in 2003.  She asked for a hot dog, and she only ate one bite of it.  That was all that I saw her eat all day -- from 9:15 in the morning until they left.  She did admit that she has been losing weight, so I wonder how often she actually is eating.  She's been 40-50 pounds overweight most of her adult life, and she's lost at least 20 pounds recently.

We all talked to her about going to the doctor, and she said that she had an appointment with her heart doctor next week on Tuesday.  She still hasn't made an appointment with a doctor specializing in asthma, and that was suggested to her months and months ago.  I don't know who prescribed the inhaler, but it was just a rescue inhaler, not an asthma treatment.

I truly don't know what to do about her.  My constant nagging has gotten nowhere.  My husband said that short of commandeering her schedule, taking her to all the doctors that she should see, and participating in all the appointments, there is nothing much more I can do.  I hate to sit there and watch her die.  I think she's being so silly.  A friend of mine also tried to talk with her yesterday.  Later, my friend said that she thought my mother was acting a bit like a martyr, but she also thought my she was scared to find out what the problem is. 

I guess I feel like things are what they are, and doctors might actually be able to help.  She's already got a fatal disease (non-alcoholic cirrhosis, and she is in the end stage), so how much worse can it get?  She often says, "when it's your time, it's your time."  But my response is that you can do things to hasten your time -- like stepping in front of a train.  I think that ignoring your health hastens the inevitable too.

My parents left around 3:00.  I called later on, and my dad told me that my mother had gone straight to bed.  She did get up later in the evening, and she said she was feeling better.  She did sound better.  She said her sinuses were bothering her, so maybe she's caught a little bug that made her feel under the weather, along with everything else.

My friend stayed until around 7:00.  She and her daughter were the last to leave.  Her daughter is seven years old, and she and DD got along really, really well.  They played well together, inside and outside.  Every time I checked on them, they were doing what they were supposed to be doing. 

After she left, we cleaned up a little and then left for another fireworks display.  DD had asked to see some more fireworks.  These fireworks were at a local park, which was really kid friendly.  DD played on some of the park equipment.  There were a lot of kids on the equipment, and I would have probably shied away from it if DH weren't there. But DD wanted to play, and DH kind of shadowed her.  I was worried that someone would push her off the upper levels, but it didn't happen.  And, since there were lots of small, spongy woodchips on the ground, I figured that she wouldn't get hurt if she had fallen.

I really enjoyed watching DD.  There were a number of things that she wanted to do, but she stayed back and watched for awhile before attempting them.  And, once she'd screwed up her courage, there was no stopping her.  I'm glad that she is the kind of person who knows what she wants and plans for it.  I hope that she keeps that up.

The fireworks display started around 10:00, and it was kind of damp and cold.  You could see the display from anywhere in the park, so we decided to spread our blanket out by our car (we'd parked on a very large soccer field, and the lanes were wide).  It probably wasn't the wisest choice, because there were cars leaving while the fireworks were going on.  Not only was it distracting, I think it was dangerous.  There were lots of people (and children) sitting on blankets by their cars.  I was kind of worried that someone would get hurt.  But, everyone was careful, so I guess it was OK.

DD was not scared at all this time.  But she'd had enough halfway through the display and wanted to leave.  I guess fireworks are so "yesterday" for her now.  We stayed until the end, and we were literally in our car within a minute after they stopped.  But it still took us a full hour to get out of the park.  I don't know where all the traffic came from.

Well, that's all for now.  I do have several topics that I want to write about, but this is the first time that I've had to sit down and actually type something out.  I took the day off today, and DD is taking her nap.  I think that I'm going to wake her up so we can go to the spray park.  I'm hoping that she'll like it.

Oh, one more thing.  Our big box of drugs arrived last week for the FET.  I start Lupron on Monday.  Good times, good times.

More Suckage

We just picked up my cat from the hospital today.  I checked her in on Friday morning.  It turns out that she still may have cancer (though the fact that she is still with us is a good sign), she has autoimmune disease which is causing a kind of anemia, and now she has been diagnosed with renal disease.  It was the latter illness that had her in the hospital for three days.  To the tune of $1400.  In addition to the $1079 that I spent a couple of weeks ago.  And $200 the week before that.  DH thinks it's a waste of money.  But DD and I don't quite see it that way, since K is a family member as far as we're concerned.

The thing that really ticked me off about this place, aside from the fact that they are outrageously expensive, is that they are kind of ivory tower veterinarians.  The regular vets bow to their expertise, since they have had additional training, but they overcharge for everything.  For example, I can get a bag of lactose ringers solution from a supply house for less than three dollars.  The ivory tower?  Charged me $62 for a bag of this solution.  I could nitpick the bill, but it would be boring.  Suffice it to say, there are numerous additional examples that I could give.  The bottom line is that I don't mind paying for expertise, but I do mind markups for things that have less to do with a person's education and more to do with doing something because you think you can get away with it.

The other thing that they did was give me a boatload of medications that I am supposed to give my cat.  Some are supposed to be given every eight hours.  Others are supposed to be given every twelve hours.  One of the doses is supposed to be repeated at midnight tonight.  And one of the medications was supposed to be given two hours before any other medication (it is supposed to coat her intestines to make the medications that she's taking less harsh or something).

Now, I do love my cat.  But I told the vet technician that I can medicate at three times -- 6:15, 6:00, and 10:30 -- when I get up, when I come home, and when I go to bed.  I will not be staying up until midnight tonight to give medication; she will get it before I go to bed.  And as for the medication that I would have to give two hours before anything else?  I didn't even take it with me.  I told the technician she could keep it, because in order to follow the dosing schedule, I would have to quit my job or hire a nurse, neither of which I'm going to do.  The medication that needs to be given three times a day, eight hours apart?  She will get it twice a day.  That's the best that I can do.

I think that regular vets are more sympathetic to what goes on in the real world.  They know that people can be both gainfully employed and still want to help their pet.  Personally, I think that these expensive vets could have given me something I could live more easily with, but then again, maybe not, and maybe I'm just p*ssed off about the whole thing.  And, I'm sure that the cat won't be very happy either.  Whenever she thinks I'm going to give her medication, she runs away from me.  Constant and excessive medication just makes her afraid of me.

So, even though I have to give the cat four medications in the morning, five when I get home (plus subcutaneous fluids), and then one more before I go to bed, she now has been diagnosed with a fatal disease.  I had a cat die of kidney failure while I was pregnant with DD.  It's an awful disease, and all I can do is try to prolong her life and keep things at a high quality level.  When she starts to fade, I will have to make a very hard decision. 

And I wonder what to tell DD.  She still talks about the last cat that I had to put down, as though she's still sick and just waiting for us in a hospital somewhere.  I've told her that the cat is in heaven, but she doesn't know what that is yet.  I don't want her to think that every time DH and I go to the doctor (or heaven forbid, if we have to go to the hospital) that we aren't going to come back.  And I know that kids can make those kinds of connections, despite our best intentions.

But for now, I am going to hold my kitty close.  And pet her a lot.  And sniff her fur.  And let her knead me with her paws, even though I really don't like that very much.  And we are going to take it one day at a time.

My Other Little Girl

I've mentioned that my first baby, the one who predates DD by many, many years, has been sick lately.  She is a lovely seal point Siamese cat.  She lost weight and started hiding, so I took her in to see the veterinarian.  Well, $200 later, I received an "I don't know" and a referral to a fancy veterinarian service.  They are located in a upscale neighborhood, and they charge upscale prices.

We did a second general blood panel, special blood tests, X-rays, and an ultrasound ($1,079 more).  The choices are:  lymphoma, multiple myeloma, or autoimmune disease.  Not good choices, but the last choice is the best because it's treatable with steroids.  Apparently, the doctor found damaged cells in the blood test, high protein levels, and anemia.  These are indicative of cancer.  The X-rays and ultrasound were negative for cancer.  She also found a strong positive for autoimmune disease on one of the blood tests.  The vet thinks that there is a 75% chance of cancer, and a 25% chance of autoimmune disease. 

The vet wanted to do a bone marrow test, for an additional $5-600.  Now, I don't really flinch at the cost, even though it does take a bite out of my credit card.  The problem for me is that it would cause her pain, the general anesthesia could send her into kidney failure, and if the test were positive?  Well, she will die in a few weeks without treatment, and in four to twelve months with treatment.  "Treatment" means chemotherapy, which will make her sick, just like it makes people sick.  Which means anti-nausea drugs among other things.  She will not be cured. 

It makes me all wonder.  For whom would I be doing all this?  For her?  Or for me?  When is enough enough?  I love this cat, and I have given her a good life for 16 years.  She is so sweet, and so kind, and so good with DD.  I don't want to let her go.  But I know that I will have to do that someday soon.

I've decided to treat her for the autoimmune disease.  That means steroids for the rest of her life.  She also receives a stool softener (also I guess for the rest of her life), and she is on a course of antibiotics (fortunately, temporary).  She receives the liquid stool softener three times a day, and the liquid antibiotics and steroids two times a day.  She's not wild about all of this, believe me.

I think that I've made the right choice, but it is very hard.  I wonder what would she want, if she could weigh in on this.  And I keep prepping DD for the loss that will come sometime in the future, if not from cancer, from age.

I haven't won the lottery yet, and I usually leave the casino with less money than when I came in.  But this time, I'm asking for the odds to be on my side.  My prayers, and my heart, can only hope.

Here's Hoping For The Lesser Of Two Evils

As you know, I lost one of my cats a few months ago.  DD remembers her, and she says that she likes her very much, still in the present tense.  I tell her that "I" is in heaven, but of course, DD doesn't really understand.  She does remember that "I" was very sick, that she went to the doctor, and that she didn't come home one day.

Now, my sweet little "K" is ill.  We're still not sure if it is cancer (multiple myeloma, AKA bone cancer, I think) or an autoimmune problem.  I'm obviously hoping for the latter, because it is treatable with steroids.  If it's cancer, she has only six to twelve months with chemotherapy.  Because I wouldn't subject her to that, that would leave her only a matter of weeks before we have to say good-bye.

Last night, not knowing if I would have to put K to sleep today or not, I tried to prepare DD.  I told her that K was very sick, and that I had to take her to the doctor today.  I asked if she understood, and she said "yes mommy, like I.  K go to heaven."

Out of the mouths of babes.  I hope that she's wrong.  I'm just not ready to let go of my little friend.