Category Archives: Dog

You Know How Sometimes….

…..you’re minding your own business, when your dog decides to rip your arm off?

Does that just happen to me?

Fine, whatevs.

Well, she was unsuccessful in the aforementioned rippage, but only by a thread – no really, the surgeon said I’ve got a thread of tendon left.  I imagine it there, hanging on by its little tendon-nails and screaming at me every time I move my right arm that it’s doing its best, that I am not making this easier and that..

…”I’m giving it all she’s got, Captain!”…

It might be the pain medication talking, though.  I can never be sure.

So, um, yeah, I’m going to have to have THREE tendons in my rotator cuff repaired. Apparently, there are four tendons so one of the little guys escaped injury and is now trying to do the work of ALL THE TENDONS at once.  This results in moments of blinding, excruciating pain.  Followed by hours of agony.  And the whole thing starts over again.

But, it only happens when I move, sneeze, breathe, you know the stuff we rarely do.

The surgeon said words like “mess” and “extensive” when describing the damage.  I’ve torn those three tendons, the bicep tendon, and then there’s something wonky with my collarbone.  He’s going to flay my shoulder, poke around a bit, attach things where they should be attached, clean out the debris that doesn’t need to be there, stitch me up and send me on my merry way.

He also said the anesthesiologist will insert a nerve-block catheter thingy (it’s a technical medical term, I’m very learned in these things now) to keep my shoulder/arm numb and pain-free for FIVE days post-op.

When he told me that part I nearly kissed him.  However, since we’d just met I thought it’d be best if I waited until after he’d filleted me and fixed all that damage before moving to the next level of our burgeoning relationship.  I’m telling you, though, there’s going to come a time when I kiss that boy for relieving me of all this pain.

Between now and then, though, there’s months of rehab/therapy, many days/nights of pain, gallons of tears, a mind-numbing amount of medical bills that (thank God) my insurance will mostly take care of, lots of whining on my part, and I hope to come out the other side with the world’s first arm worthy of a major-league rookie pitcher (of advanced years).  You think I’m joking, but seriously kids I am setting the bar that high for me.

I have to.  It’s the way I am, I have to push myself to do more, to do better, to go a little farther each time.  It helps me focus on the task at hand, and the small victories are oh so sweet that way.

 

 

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I Promised Myself I Wouldn’t Be THAT Blogger…

…that posted cute pictures of their cats and/or dogs all day and talked about how funny they look when they poop or hack up a hairball.

Sigh…I am such a disappointment to myself.

You see, our new rescue pup – Josey – does unintentionally hilarious shit.

All. The. Time.

So, I’m actually showing a good deal of restraint by just sharing this one story.

You’re welcome.

One of the ‘things’ about my formerly feral white shepherd is her lack of socialization.  She doesn’t know how to dog, basically.

There’s no tail wagging.

There’s no food begging – in fact she RUNS the other way when we try to feed her in the house.  She’ll only eat outside – another post for…nevermind.

There’s no coming when called, despite knowing her name.

Basically, she’s a cat in a dog suit.

The one thing she’s begun doing is following her “pack” around the house.  The pack being me and hubby.  The cat is not part of the pack, and spends most of his time alternately ignoring or staring at her – no doubt thinking what a dumbass she is.

We have a den, and in that den our Josey had never set foot.  For whatever reason, the den (and our bedroom) was a room she couldn’t follow us into.

This created a serious problem for her.  She couldn’t not follow her pack, but she couldn’t follow her pack.

So, one night she finally worked up the courage to follow her pack.

Sort of.

She started by backing into the den, after she’d paced in front of the door for several minutes, and sat with her back to us staring at the doorway.

This went on for at least 10 minutes, hubby and I giggling all the while, and me providing a commentary to the thoughts I imagined in her head…

                I can do this. I know I can do this. Just don’t make eye contact. I can do this.

Finally, she turned around and walked to the farthest corner of the room.  She sat on the hard floor, and slooooooooooooooowly her butt slid backwards.  She re-positioned her butt and paws, sat down, and sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid backwards.

By now, hubby and I were in tears from trying to hold back the laughter.

The cat finally came out to see what all the fuss was about, and he walked right in and sat down on the rug right next to Josey.  His ass stayed put. He looked at her, smugly.

She got up and parked her ass on the rug, ending the slide and our giggling.

Because DOG! And Sick! And Birthdays!

Ugh…no time to explain but last week:

I got the plague of a thousand deaths and am still trying to recover.

There was a major screw up at work, not by me but affecting my guys, and I’m still trying to recover.

I spent Sunday at a kid’s birthday party and my hearing is still trying to recover.

We got a dog on Saturday, and she doesn’t know how to dog yet, and I may never recover.