VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22). Celebrate your wins. When your personal life hums a happy melody, the other elements — like fulfilling work and enough money to cover the bills — will click into place.
This was a recent horoscope entry. I generally do not put a lot of weight into these types of things, but sometimes, anything can serve as proper motivation.
As I take stock of my personal life, mid-summer, I find it to be humming a very happy melody. My screened porch is a daily source of rejuvenation. I have set my alarm a bit earlier so that I can get up and spend 10-15 extra minutes out in the backyard gardens building up a supply of joy and gratitude for the workday ahead.
This week, I learned that I could maintain at least some of the flexibility for personal activities that I had pre-reassignment. That is, I finished the calendar in time on Monday to make the early bus so I could get out to Clearwater for Jet's Monday night field training on time. Also, my 8:00 a.m. agility lesson on Wednesday worked out perfectly. I got home, showered, changed and caught the 10:30 bus to make it to work by 10:45. I was able to keep rogue hearings off my calendar for that morning and have done the same for several lessons through August. To top it off, the calendar that afternoon was actually manageable and entertaining.
I am getting into a rhythm. I am finding new ways to keep my passion for serving crime victims alive. I am feeling more comfortable with the volume and pace. When it gets tedious, I instant message my colleagues in their offices and pick out an amusing anecdote to share.
I have decided that I no longer need the weekly affirmation of something positive, as I feel sufficiently able to cope with the next 48 weeks. If that should change, I will make time to find something positive to memorialize on this blog. But for now, I have other things I can write about.
Finally, I would note that this was the first week I did all 5 days and I didn't fall apart. In fact for 3 of them, I didn't even need the stool! :)
Saturday, July 11, 2015
Thursday, July 2, 2015
Week 3 - Short Week and a Stool
This week is the 4th of July holiday week, which means we get Friday the 3rd off. The weather has been splendid and it is shaping up to be a good weekend.
After several long afternoons of standing, I started inquiring about getting a stool. Others before me had utilized one, so I was not entering uncharted territory. From the responses I got, it would seem I was asking for the moon on a silver platter. In the end, the boss who has dumped me in this position came to my office and told me to pick one out and have the office manager order it. As I made contact with her, she appeared in my office doorway a short time later with a high tech office stool.
My back no longer pains me and this week is almost over. :)
After several long afternoons of standing, I started inquiring about getting a stool. Others before me had utilized one, so I was not entering uncharted territory. From the responses I got, it would seem I was asking for the moon on a silver platter. In the end, the boss who has dumped me in this position came to my office and told me to pick one out and have the office manager order it. As I made contact with her, she appeared in my office doorway a short time later with a high tech office stool.
My back no longer pains me and this week is almost over. :)
Monday, June 29, 2015
Week 2 - New Shoes
Being a professional middle-aged woman is filled with potential pitfalls. Fashion and comfort are often mutually exclusive. As someone who has suffered from spinal stenosis, plantar fasciitis and a rapidly growing bunion, wearing heels has resulted in significant discomfort. My new position requires, at least for now, that I stand for an hour at a minimum. One day this week, it was 2 and a half hours.
So I have searched for shoes that are comfortable, but somewhat cute. Here they are:
So I have searched for shoes that are comfortable, but somewhat cute. Here they are:
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Procuring Respite
I have been prosecuting domestic violence cases for 20 years. Victims of these offenses generally fit a typical profile. They are uncooperative, which manifests itself either in perjury - should they actually come to court - or complete disappearance, in which case it is difficult for the prosecution to proceed.
Often, a prosecutor has to negotiate a better deal than would be desired because of that lack of cooperation. Frequently, the offender is placed on probation and ordered to have no contact with the victim. And, most of the time, the offender and the victim reconcile…..until the next act of violence occurs.
This week I was tasked with preparing for a hearing that was likely to revoke the Defendant’s probation and send him to prison for around a year. I had subpoenaed a police officer and the victim. She was reluctant to come in, but she actually arrived on time for our prep meeting ahead of court. I explained the process and what was likely to happen. She was visibly upset and expressed great anxiety at having to testify in front of her abuser. She then tried to take responsibility for what had happened, telling me that she had allowed him to stay with her when he had nowhere to go. Her eyes welled up with tears as she explained how much she loved this man, with whom she had been in a relationship for 8 years.
I asked her what she wanted to have happen, thinking I knew her answer. The majority of victims sincerely believe that all it will take is “just one more chance.” But then this victim surprised me.
Often, a prosecutor has to negotiate a better deal than would be desired because of that lack of cooperation. Frequently, the offender is placed on probation and ordered to have no contact with the victim. And, most of the time, the offender and the victim reconcile…..until the next act of violence occurs.
This week I was tasked with preparing for a hearing that was likely to revoke the Defendant’s probation and send him to prison for around a year. I had subpoenaed a police officer and the victim. She was reluctant to come in, but she actually arrived on time for our prep meeting ahead of court. I explained the process and what was likely to happen. She was visibly upset and expressed great anxiety at having to testify in front of her abuser. She then tried to take responsibility for what had happened, telling me that she had allowed him to stay with her when he had nowhere to go. Her eyes welled up with tears as she explained how much she loved this man, with whom she had been in a relationship for 8 years.
I asked her what she wanted to have happen, thinking I knew her answer. The majority of victims sincerely believe that all it will take is “just one more chance.” But then this victim surprised me.
“I think he needs to do his time,” she whispered. She had grown weary of his jealousy, his belittling, his violence, all which was fueled by his drug use. She explained to me that she just needed some time to be able to breathe, without looking over her shoulder for the next explosive episode.
I told her that I would try to get through the hearing without having to call her as a witness. When we got to court, the defense attorney surprised me with the news that the Defendant planned to waive his right to the hearing and agree to go to prison. The victim's relief was palpable when I conveyed this to her, as she anxiously waited out in the hallway. She hugged me in gratitude and went on profusely about what it meant to have someone looking out for her.
It was a good day.
It was a good day.
Thursday, June 18, 2015
On the Year of My Professional Discontent
Very unexpectedly, I have found myself in a version of professional hell. Or at least that is how I feel. I was taken off a trial team and unceremoniously reassigned to a calendar position. It was a position nobody wanted, including me. In a nutshell, I am no longer doing a job I am confident in, enjoy and feel like I have the skills for, but rather, I now feel like I have been relegated to an assignment that is neither interesting, nor challenging. Apparently my feelings really didn’t matter when it was decided that I would relinquish my current caseload and take on this assignment.
It has been explained to me that experienced attorneys are needed for this position. Based on my 20 years in the County Attorney’s Office, I find this explanation not the least bit persuasive. It has been explained to me that it is a “break” from the “stress” of jury trials for serious cases. My response to that is that a trial attorney gets periodic breaks – they are built in to the calendar. I went for about six months without a break (ironically during Casey’s surgery and subsequent chemo) and then did not have a trial for another four months. That was my “break.” Or so I tried to explain. Where I have previously thrived on the complexity, variety and challenge of jury trials, I now find myself mired in the monotony and tedium of a day to day assignment that only varies by volume. I am tasked with representing the State in hearings where an individual is alleged to have violated their probation. The vast majority of these people are chemically dependent, suffer from some sort of mental illness and otherwise live on the fringes of society. The question before the court is “what response is appropriate to this person’s transgression?”
I have been mired in trying to figure out what might have been my transgression that has led to this unfortunate turn of events. With everything going on nationwide in the criminal justice system, particularly the allegations of racism, I have also begun to wonder if it is time to move on to another area of law. Criminal prosecution, with the exception of a year of defense work and a year representing child protection social workers, has been my professional life for over 20 years. I could never see myself doing anything else. Until now. The upcoming year in hell gives me an opportunity to reevaluate my thoughts and feelings about what I have been doing professionally and what I might do in the future.
For the last several weeks, however, my main response to this situation has been to complain. To feel humiliated when people say, “what a waste of your talent.” To dread the loss of personal freedom that this assignment brings. To dread the physical discomfort it brings (1-2 hours standing at a podium every afternoon). However, from time to time, I have been able to interject humor into the situation. I generally default to happy. I always have. It is easier for me to smile and laugh than to be angry. But for the last several weeks, I have struggled to overcome an overwhelming sense of bitterness and panic.
Today, I finished my first week in this assignment. It was every bit as awful as I imagined it would be. As I was preparing to leave work this afternoon, I joked with my colleagues that I would create a countdown of weeks until it would be over. Counting days made the situation seem insurmountable.….weeks would feel more endurable. So, on a year assignment, that would add up to 52 weeks. And after today, 51 weeks. After work, I went to the chiropractor, where she worked on my messed up back and hip flexors. We talked about the new shoes I ordered and how I will manage my posture better. But when it came to how I was going to cope emotionally, mentally and psychologically with this new situation, we were both at a loss. I did express that I knew, deep in my soul, that I needed to be able to identify a way to find peace.
And then, when I got home, I figured out a way.
For every week that I am in this assigment, I am going to find one good thing that happened. One thing that I am proud of. One thing that feels worthwhile. I already could think of two things for this past week, so I am already ahead of the game. The entries may not be long, but they will serve as a marker to show that I still can find value in what I am doing. That there may be a reason, long term, for why this has happened.
These entries will demonstrate that I can change the way I think about all of this. And there will simply be no room for complaining.
Friday, May 29, 2015
On the Slow Disappearance of Dad
Yesterday I got to spend several hours with my dad, one on one. That was not the original plan. My parents and I were supposed to attend an orchestra concert. But several days prior, my dad, who will be 87 in July had a “bad spell,” where he collapsed and my mom did not feel comfortable bringing him. So we turned two of the tickets back in and I dropped my mom off at the concert and Dad and I returned to my house.
I figured he would just want to sleep. As he said in the car on the way to my house, “it seems I could just sleep all day.”
But when we arrived, he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to sit on the back porch and visit. He was delighted to be out there. We talked about what a great investment the screen porch was. We talked about the work that I have put into my house and how it will hopefully pay off when I sell it. We went through pictures of the gardens through the years. We talked about baseball. We talked about running speaker wire through the house to get speakers hooked up on the back porch. I told him I was pretty sure I got my jerry rigging abilities from him.
At one point he said, “it’s hard to be old.” And my heart broke for him yet again.
In late 2004, my dad went into the hospital for some sort of kidney stone issue which then developed into a very serious staph infection that nearly killed him. He was sent home after a week in the hospital with a picc line for antibiotics. It seems that was a catalyst for what was to come.
Sometime in 2005, he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. For a long time, he and my mom lived in denial. The tremor and weakness was left over from the staph infection. Or at least that was what they wanted to believe.
Being the proactive person I am, I got several books on the condition, including one that had exercises in it. I accompanied my parents to my dad’s neurologist appointments. I distinctly remember driving them to one such appointment and talking with my dad about how he was feeling. I remember him saying that he felt like he didn’t have much energy and that he didn’t feel motivated. My parents were always at odds with the neurologist. I’m not sure why, there was nothing about her that I found lacking, but she certainly wasn’t a warm, fuzzy presence. When my dad described how he was feeling, she suggested that he was likely suffering from depression. She went so far as to write him a prescription and give him a free 28 day supply of the drug to get him started. They (in reality, my mom) decided that they did not want to try them. The reasons given were not compelling, but there was no changing their (her) minds.
It has been 10 years since that diagnosis and in that 10 years, I have watched my dad slowly fade away. My mom has always been the dominant one in their marriage. I unfortunately have more than a few memories of her throwing huge, volatile tantrums at him. There would always be the sound of her yelling and then his response, which was always hard to pick up. My mom has a permanent list of the ways my dad has disappointed her. I don’t pretend to know everything, but I do know he developed a habit of not always telling her the truth about things for fear of the outbursts. I can’t say I blame him, but it has left scars on both of them.
And so now, my mom gets angry at my dad if he doesn’t stand up straight, or speak clearly, or if he starts coughing in the middle of a meal. As if he intends all of those things. She has been so conditioned to feeling betrayed by him, that she now views his current shortcomings as just another example of intentional failures on his part.
Last year, my dad experienced drops in blood pressure that necessitated hospitalization. He also ended up clogging a toilet which resulted in an overflow and heavy damage to the floor of the bathroom and the ceiling of the room directly below it. All this, while their tri-level townhome was on the market. My mother sobbed that this was not how she expected her life to turn out. Her narcissism has exposed itself in many ugly ways.
She monopolizes conversations in an almost manic fashion when the three of us are together. That is, unless she forces my dad to talk on the phone. She does it in an obvious way, like one would prod a child to tell Grandma about a school project. She complains how lonely she is and how she has nobody to talk to. She talks about him and his condition as if he wasn’t there.
I struggle to remember my dad as a vivacious person. I know he has always been silly. I know he has always been kind. He was an actor when he was young and a college level theatre professor when I was a child. His last job was as a trainer to people selling insurance for a big bank. He would travel for business and I remember him coming to Minneapolis when I was going to law school. He took me to dinner on my 25th birthday and we shared a number of laughs.
I have a cassette tape he made for me when I moved to Washington DC in search of a job after college. It was, as he was, motivational. Where my mother’s anxiety would not allow her to see me in a life that did not revolve around her, my dad recognized and encouraged my desire to spread my wings. He bought me the 1988 edition of “What Color is your Parachute?” – a book that was designed for college grads, or anyone contemplating a career change. The sky was the limit as far as he was concerned.
Several years ago, I converted old videos to DVDs. I want to look at them, but fear I will fall apart when I see my dad before his diagnosis. I know I repress my feelings now because I don’t want to succumb to the sadness.
I know he won’t be here for much longer. His mind is still pretty much intact, which is almost the worst case scenario, because he is aware of all of his limitations. The depression is palpable.
I view my job now as to be the entertainer and the peacemaker. It is not an easy one and he recognizes that. Over the holidays, he commented as I was leaving after trying to get my mom back on track after a meltdown of sorts: “it’s so nice to have you here as the voice of reason…..” I want to bring him peace and a small bit of happiness in this last phase of his life. I have no idea if he looks back on his life, and if he does, how he assesses it. I have no idea if he thinks about anything at all when he is alone. I know he loves me and I love him dearly. And in the end, that will be all that matters.
I figured he would just want to sleep. As he said in the car on the way to my house, “it seems I could just sleep all day.”
But when we arrived, he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to sit on the back porch and visit. He was delighted to be out there. We talked about what a great investment the screen porch was. We talked about the work that I have put into my house and how it will hopefully pay off when I sell it. We went through pictures of the gardens through the years. We talked about baseball. We talked about running speaker wire through the house to get speakers hooked up on the back porch. I told him I was pretty sure I got my jerry rigging abilities from him.
At one point he said, “it’s hard to be old.” And my heart broke for him yet again.
In late 2004, my dad went into the hospital for some sort of kidney stone issue which then developed into a very serious staph infection that nearly killed him. He was sent home after a week in the hospital with a picc line for antibiotics. It seems that was a catalyst for what was to come.
Sometime in 2005, he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. For a long time, he and my mom lived in denial. The tremor and weakness was left over from the staph infection. Or at least that was what they wanted to believe.
Being the proactive person I am, I got several books on the condition, including one that had exercises in it. I accompanied my parents to my dad’s neurologist appointments. I distinctly remember driving them to one such appointment and talking with my dad about how he was feeling. I remember him saying that he felt like he didn’t have much energy and that he didn’t feel motivated. My parents were always at odds with the neurologist. I’m not sure why, there was nothing about her that I found lacking, but she certainly wasn’t a warm, fuzzy presence. When my dad described how he was feeling, she suggested that he was likely suffering from depression. She went so far as to write him a prescription and give him a free 28 day supply of the drug to get him started. They (in reality, my mom) decided that they did not want to try them. The reasons given were not compelling, but there was no changing their (her) minds.
It has been 10 years since that diagnosis and in that 10 years, I have watched my dad slowly fade away. My mom has always been the dominant one in their marriage. I unfortunately have more than a few memories of her throwing huge, volatile tantrums at him. There would always be the sound of her yelling and then his response, which was always hard to pick up. My mom has a permanent list of the ways my dad has disappointed her. I don’t pretend to know everything, but I do know he developed a habit of not always telling her the truth about things for fear of the outbursts. I can’t say I blame him, but it has left scars on both of them.
And so now, my mom gets angry at my dad if he doesn’t stand up straight, or speak clearly, or if he starts coughing in the middle of a meal. As if he intends all of those things. She has been so conditioned to feeling betrayed by him, that she now views his current shortcomings as just another example of intentional failures on his part.
Last year, my dad experienced drops in blood pressure that necessitated hospitalization. He also ended up clogging a toilet which resulted in an overflow and heavy damage to the floor of the bathroom and the ceiling of the room directly below it. All this, while their tri-level townhome was on the market. My mother sobbed that this was not how she expected her life to turn out. Her narcissism has exposed itself in many ugly ways.
She monopolizes conversations in an almost manic fashion when the three of us are together. That is, unless she forces my dad to talk on the phone. She does it in an obvious way, like one would prod a child to tell Grandma about a school project. She complains how lonely she is and how she has nobody to talk to. She talks about him and his condition as if he wasn’t there.
I struggle to remember my dad as a vivacious person. I know he has always been silly. I know he has always been kind. He was an actor when he was young and a college level theatre professor when I was a child. His last job was as a trainer to people selling insurance for a big bank. He would travel for business and I remember him coming to Minneapolis when I was going to law school. He took me to dinner on my 25th birthday and we shared a number of laughs.
I have a cassette tape he made for me when I moved to Washington DC in search of a job after college. It was, as he was, motivational. Where my mother’s anxiety would not allow her to see me in a life that did not revolve around her, my dad recognized and encouraged my desire to spread my wings. He bought me the 1988 edition of “What Color is your Parachute?” – a book that was designed for college grads, or anyone contemplating a career change. The sky was the limit as far as he was concerned.
Several years ago, I converted old videos to DVDs. I want to look at them, but fear I will fall apart when I see my dad before his diagnosis. I know I repress my feelings now because I don’t want to succumb to the sadness.
I know he won’t be here for much longer. His mind is still pretty much intact, which is almost the worst case scenario, because he is aware of all of his limitations. The depression is palpable.
I view my job now as to be the entertainer and the peacemaker. It is not an easy one and he recognizes that. Over the holidays, he commented as I was leaving after trying to get my mom back on track after a meltdown of sorts: “it’s so nice to have you here as the voice of reason…..” I want to bring him peace and a small bit of happiness in this last phase of his life. I have no idea if he looks back on his life, and if he does, how he assesses it. I have no idea if he thinks about anything at all when he is alone. I know he loves me and I love him dearly. And in the end, that will be all that matters.
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
Casey Mae's Challenge
The purpose of this post is to chronicle my journey with Casey Mae through her surgery to remove a mass in her lung, and the subsequent cancer diagnosis and treatment. I have not focused on writing well as much as just memorializing this experience. At this point, as I look back on it, it was a very dark period for me. But today (the first day of April), I feel like she has dragged me back into the light. She was always in the light, and for that I am eternally grateful.
December 29, 2014
Casey Mae underwent surgery to remove her right cranial lung lobe. We had discovered a small lump back in April, merely by doing x-rays in a wellness exam. We monitored it and by November it had tripled in size. A fine needle aspirate was inconclusive and the consensus was to have the lobe removed.
I have never felt like I let her down as much as I did on that day. For some reason, I could not remain upbeat. I fought tears the entire time we were at the surgeon’s and throughout the day. She was perfect. There was absolutely no sign that anything was amiss. Yet I was choosing to expose her to a very significant surgery. It seemed so unfair of me. When I left, I could tell I left her worried. I will always regret that.
December 30, 2014 Home again!
I should mention that I sent Jet off to the field trainer the day before her surgery. I was very afraid that he would not be able to respect her limitations. I also knew that he needed exercise and we needed to lay low for a couple of weeks. So when CM came home, it was all Mommy and me time.
She had trouble early on recognizing her own limitations. There was more than one dramatic moment when she tried going down stairs or jumping off something without permission or supervision. The first week or so was stressful. We learned the word “EASY” and it was utilized liberally.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
This was the day I got the diagnosis of histiocytic sarcoma. It was also the first day I focused in on what academics veterinarians can be. As I struggled to understand what the surgeon was saying, the best I could manage was that this was a rare form of this type of cancer. But what made it rare was that it appeared to have been contained within the tumor. We had done ultrasounds of the rest of CM’s insides and everything looked clean. That said, the surgeon referred me to an oncologist, interestingly, one I had seen almost 10 years prior for a follow up on my golden retriever.
The way I cope with things I feel I have no control over is to do things I can control. So the next day I set up an appointment with the oncologist – as soon as we could be seen.
Saturday, January 10, 2015
After 12 days of basically doing nothing, we left the house and ran some errands. The first item of business was to get the sutures out and that was uneventful. We then stopped by the flyball tournament. I was worried about my ability to hold the tears back, but it ended up being a very nice, positive experience. Many people approached us and gave CM lots of love. It is wonderful to feel so supported. From there, we went out for a massage. I learned a ton at that session. Most importantly, I learned that CM was likely in desperate need of a chiropractic adjustment, due to all the handling during surgery. I felt very grateful to receive this information and promptly set up an adjustment for that following Monday.
Monday, January 12, 2015
So glad to have done the adjustment. Turns out she needed her ribs adjusted, along with other areas of her body. And I realized the magnitude of this surgery in ways I think I had been in denial about previously. Where I had thought we could pick up right where we left of, it was now clear to me that there was work to be done so that the incision could heal up and loosen up. Until that happened, she was going to have restricted range of motion and pain.
When we got home, I set out to teach her a new trick: “high five.” It had been years since I taught CM anything new and I approached this in such a new, relaxed fashion. She wanted to raise up her left paw, obviously because it was less painful. But by the end of the evening, I was getting her to at least move her right paw in the general direction.
Sunday, January 18, 2015
A pretty Sunday. We took a nice, leisurely walk around the neighborhood. CM was on the flexi, so got to set her own pace. It was wonderful.
Monday, January 19, 2015
My agility trainer cancelled our scheduled lesson, but I made arrangements for us to have some ring time. The chiropractor recommended jumping her at 4 inches and doing the weave poles slowly. She loved it! We cheated and raised the bars to 8 inches! Then had another adjustment and everything was very good. Feels like we are finding our way back to our old life.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Today we met with the oncologist. I remembered him from many years ago when he consulted on a mast cell tumor on Molly. He did not remember me, but bragged that he never forgot anyone. He talked non-stop for at least 10 minutes. CM fell asleep. I remember getting lost in the fog of statistics, studies, papers and presentations. And then I agreed to chemo. At some point when I asked to clarify something, he jokingly asked, “haven’t you been listening?” I wanted to punch him in the mouth.
On the way home the tears slid down my cheeks. I did not want for this to be our future.
We stopped at our neighborhood park and I took out a bumper. I thought CM was going to lose it, she was so excited. I only threw the bumper a couple of times, but she was in heaven. She doesn’t know anything about any of this. She only knows she can retrieve again.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
I have to add this entry because it was one of the hardest days I can remember. I spent the entire day fighting back tears. I started one of the most difficult trials of my career. At the end of the day, I realized I had gotten a call from Tim, Jet’s field trainer, with whom I had left him three weeks prior. My heart was pounding and my stomach was churning as I feared the worst. I listened to Tim’s voice – it sounded so serious. And then he told me what a good boy Jet had been in his training sessions that day. I could not stop the tears. The emotions were just too much. I pulled myself together enough to wait for the bus. I got home and sobbed uncontrollably. And ordered a pizza. And had a beer. And got ready for the next day.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Today was the first day of chemo. I dropped her off around 7:30 and raced into work to get ready for the trial. I came up to my office on the break to find a 2 minute barely coherent voicemail from the oncologist telling me, in essence, that CM’s kidney values were a bit low. I called them back and let them know, in no uncertain terms, that he needed to learn to be more concise. Horrible traffic at the end of the day for picking her up. I think I got home around 7-7:30. Ugh. Not helping my stress level to be doing this while in a jury trial.
Saturday-Sunday, January 24-25, 2015
This was a difficult weekend because it was my club’s flyball tournament and I was not running a dog, but nevertheless, expected to work. I couldn’t shake the sadness I felt going to the tournament site. As it turned out, many of my teammates were very kind and the periods of time I worked, it was considerably less painful than I had imagined. And both days of the weekend, I took CM to the park for some short bumper retrieves. She absolutely loved it and I left her quite disappointed when I decided we had to quit.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Jet came home!!! And CM promptly humped him once they were in the house. I am starting to feel like the pieces of my life are coming back together.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Tonight we went to flyball practice. We have a vet on our team and I could see she was not happy that CM came to practice. I saw nothing to give me concern and I wanted her to start getting her old life back. We had a wonderful time. I stopped with her wanting to do more and that felt good.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Today, CM raced in her first flyball tournament since November. It was wonderful. She was pulling to run and had her usual “pounce” on the box. She ran beautifully and only showed signs of tiring later in the day on Sunday.
I have been advised that with her lowered WBC, she is at a higher risk to catch an infection. A friend told me that most people whose dogs are undergoing chemo tend to keep them away from shows and activities. I cannot do that while she is so energetic and happy. I hope I do not regret this decision.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Well…..hard to say if the flyball tournament played a role, but her WBC did not come back high enough for them to do chemo today. Very frustrating, because I got the news just as I was pulling into my parking space at work. I had a bit of flexibility to pick her up a little early and was absolutely shocked at the bill. $282. What was most irritating was that she had undergone a “chemo exam” when she wasn’t even going to be having chemo. I suggested that in the future, we do the CBC right away and if she is not good to go, then I take her back home immediately and they don’t charge me for other tests that are not necessary on that day.
However, that being said, the $63.75 “chemo exam” did not turn up a temperature, so I am hoping that means she did not have an active infection and her numbers were still low because of the chemo. It was a bit concerning that they were lower than the previous Friday. I would have thought they would be back on their way up.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Went for a Tuesday chemo session in hopes of staying on schedule before we head on vacation. I got permission to work remotely, so my plan was to stay at the clinic until her session was done, then bring her home and then go into work. It went perfectly. It was the best session yet – she was done by 9:10, I got her home and myself to work by 10:30. If only life could continue in this fashion.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Not great news today – CM’s WBC and neutrophils were the lowest they have been since we have started the chemo. You wouldn’t know it, as she is not sick, but she is at a heightened risk to catch something. I have great difficulty keeping her in the bubble she probably should be in, but we did skip flyball practice that night. I can see she’s getting cabin fever……
Monday, March 9, 2015
Agility lessons and adjustments all around! Happy times!
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Successful chemo round. I stayed there and did work and then brought her home. Left my work laptop at the bus stop and realized it shortly after I had gotten on the bus. Got off at the next stop, took a cab back, and found it, right where I left it. Feeling very lucky. Also feeling like it’s all still a bit too much and that vacation cannot come soon enough.
Thursday, March 19, 2015
CBC at a very pleasant clinic in Athens, GA. The next day I find out that, on top of everything, CM is Lyme positive. We get a prescription for doxycycline which starts out at $300 and gets reduced to $140. How much can this little dog endure? Asymptomatic for sure, but I am going to treat it in hopes of getting those WBC to bounce back a little better.
CONCLUSION: I have decided to end this, because it is very long and I feel like the worst of it is over. We had an amazing vacation and CM participated to the fullest extent.
Tomorrow will mark the halfway point for the chemo sessions. 5 down and 5 more to go. She will also get x-rays to check for any spread of the cancer.
I will write one more post after things have wrapped up. I have continued to be amazed at the resiliency of my CM. She has no idea what her body has had to battle over the last year and her energy and attitude have never been better. I continue to stress and get tearful from time to time, but I am focusing on mirroring her view on life. It surely is the better one to have.
December 29, 2014
Casey Mae underwent surgery to remove her right cranial lung lobe. We had discovered a small lump back in April, merely by doing x-rays in a wellness exam. We monitored it and by November it had tripled in size. A fine needle aspirate was inconclusive and the consensus was to have the lobe removed.
I have never felt like I let her down as much as I did on that day. For some reason, I could not remain upbeat. I fought tears the entire time we were at the surgeon’s and throughout the day. She was perfect. There was absolutely no sign that anything was amiss. Yet I was choosing to expose her to a very significant surgery. It seemed so unfair of me. When I left, I could tell I left her worried. I will always regret that.
December 30, 2014 Home again!
I should mention that I sent Jet off to the field trainer the day before her surgery. I was very afraid that he would not be able to respect her limitations. I also knew that he needed exercise and we needed to lay low for a couple of weeks. So when CM came home, it was all Mommy and me time.
She had trouble early on recognizing her own limitations. There was more than one dramatic moment when she tried going down stairs or jumping off something without permission or supervision. The first week or so was stressful. We learned the word “EASY” and it was utilized liberally.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
This was the day I got the diagnosis of histiocytic sarcoma. It was also the first day I focused in on what academics veterinarians can be. As I struggled to understand what the surgeon was saying, the best I could manage was that this was a rare form of this type of cancer. But what made it rare was that it appeared to have been contained within the tumor. We had done ultrasounds of the rest of CM’s insides and everything looked clean. That said, the surgeon referred me to an oncologist, interestingly, one I had seen almost 10 years prior for a follow up on my golden retriever.
The way I cope with things I feel I have no control over is to do things I can control. So the next day I set up an appointment with the oncologist – as soon as we could be seen.
Saturday, January 10, 2015
After 12 days of basically doing nothing, we left the house and ran some errands. The first item of business was to get the sutures out and that was uneventful. We then stopped by the flyball tournament. I was worried about my ability to hold the tears back, but it ended up being a very nice, positive experience. Many people approached us and gave CM lots of love. It is wonderful to feel so supported. From there, we went out for a massage. I learned a ton at that session. Most importantly, I learned that CM was likely in desperate need of a chiropractic adjustment, due to all the handling during surgery. I felt very grateful to receive this information and promptly set up an adjustment for that following Monday.
Monday, January 12, 2015
So glad to have done the adjustment. Turns out she needed her ribs adjusted, along with other areas of her body. And I realized the magnitude of this surgery in ways I think I had been in denial about previously. Where I had thought we could pick up right where we left of, it was now clear to me that there was work to be done so that the incision could heal up and loosen up. Until that happened, she was going to have restricted range of motion and pain.
When we got home, I set out to teach her a new trick: “high five.” It had been years since I taught CM anything new and I approached this in such a new, relaxed fashion. She wanted to raise up her left paw, obviously because it was less painful. But by the end of the evening, I was getting her to at least move her right paw in the general direction.
Sunday, January 18, 2015
A pretty Sunday. We took a nice, leisurely walk around the neighborhood. CM was on the flexi, so got to set her own pace. It was wonderful.
Monday, January 19, 2015
My agility trainer cancelled our scheduled lesson, but I made arrangements for us to have some ring time. The chiropractor recommended jumping her at 4 inches and doing the weave poles slowly. She loved it! We cheated and raised the bars to 8 inches! Then had another adjustment and everything was very good. Feels like we are finding our way back to our old life.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Today we met with the oncologist. I remembered him from many years ago when he consulted on a mast cell tumor on Molly. He did not remember me, but bragged that he never forgot anyone. He talked non-stop for at least 10 minutes. CM fell asleep. I remember getting lost in the fog of statistics, studies, papers and presentations. And then I agreed to chemo. At some point when I asked to clarify something, he jokingly asked, “haven’t you been listening?” I wanted to punch him in the mouth.
On the way home the tears slid down my cheeks. I did not want for this to be our future.
We stopped at our neighborhood park and I took out a bumper. I thought CM was going to lose it, she was so excited. I only threw the bumper a couple of times, but she was in heaven. She doesn’t know anything about any of this. She only knows she can retrieve again.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
I have to add this entry because it was one of the hardest days I can remember. I spent the entire day fighting back tears. I started one of the most difficult trials of my career. At the end of the day, I realized I had gotten a call from Tim, Jet’s field trainer, with whom I had left him three weeks prior. My heart was pounding and my stomach was churning as I feared the worst. I listened to Tim’s voice – it sounded so serious. And then he told me what a good boy Jet had been in his training sessions that day. I could not stop the tears. The emotions were just too much. I pulled myself together enough to wait for the bus. I got home and sobbed uncontrollably. And ordered a pizza. And had a beer. And got ready for the next day.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Today was the first day of chemo. I dropped her off around 7:30 and raced into work to get ready for the trial. I came up to my office on the break to find a 2 minute barely coherent voicemail from the oncologist telling me, in essence, that CM’s kidney values were a bit low. I called them back and let them know, in no uncertain terms, that he needed to learn to be more concise. Horrible traffic at the end of the day for picking her up. I think I got home around 7-7:30. Ugh. Not helping my stress level to be doing this while in a jury trial.
Saturday-Sunday, January 24-25, 2015
This was a difficult weekend because it was my club’s flyball tournament and I was not running a dog, but nevertheless, expected to work. I couldn’t shake the sadness I felt going to the tournament site. As it turned out, many of my teammates were very kind and the periods of time I worked, it was considerably less painful than I had imagined. And both days of the weekend, I took CM to the park for some short bumper retrieves. She absolutely loved it and I left her quite disappointed when I decided we had to quit.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Jet came home!!! And CM promptly humped him once they were in the house. I am starting to feel like the pieces of my life are coming back together.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Tonight we went to flyball practice. We have a vet on our team and I could see she was not happy that CM came to practice. I saw nothing to give me concern and I wanted her to start getting her old life back. We had a wonderful time. I stopped with her wanting to do more and that felt good.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Today, CM raced in her first flyball tournament since November. It was wonderful. She was pulling to run and had her usual “pounce” on the box. She ran beautifully and only showed signs of tiring later in the day on Sunday.
I have been advised that with her lowered WBC, she is at a higher risk to catch an infection. A friend told me that most people whose dogs are undergoing chemo tend to keep them away from shows and activities. I cannot do that while she is so energetic and happy. I hope I do not regret this decision.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Well…..hard to say if the flyball tournament played a role, but her WBC did not come back high enough for them to do chemo today. Very frustrating, because I got the news just as I was pulling into my parking space at work. I had a bit of flexibility to pick her up a little early and was absolutely shocked at the bill. $282. What was most irritating was that she had undergone a “chemo exam” when she wasn’t even going to be having chemo. I suggested that in the future, we do the CBC right away and if she is not good to go, then I take her back home immediately and they don’t charge me for other tests that are not necessary on that day.
However, that being said, the $63.75 “chemo exam” did not turn up a temperature, so I am hoping that means she did not have an active infection and her numbers were still low because of the chemo. It was a bit concerning that they were lower than the previous Friday. I would have thought they would be back on their way up.
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Went for a Tuesday chemo session in hopes of staying on schedule before we head on vacation. I got permission to work remotely, so my plan was to stay at the clinic until her session was done, then bring her home and then go into work. It went perfectly. It was the best session yet – she was done by 9:10, I got her home and myself to work by 10:30. If only life could continue in this fashion.
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Not great news today – CM’s WBC and neutrophils were the lowest they have been since we have started the chemo. You wouldn’t know it, as she is not sick, but she is at a heightened risk to catch something. I have great difficulty keeping her in the bubble she probably should be in, but we did skip flyball practice that night. I can see she’s getting cabin fever……
Monday, March 9, 2015
Agility lessons and adjustments all around! Happy times!
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Successful chemo round. I stayed there and did work and then brought her home. Left my work laptop at the bus stop and realized it shortly after I had gotten on the bus. Got off at the next stop, took a cab back, and found it, right where I left it. Feeling very lucky. Also feeling like it’s all still a bit too much and that vacation cannot come soon enough.
Thursday, March 19, 2015
CBC at a very pleasant clinic in Athens, GA. The next day I find out that, on top of everything, CM is Lyme positive. We get a prescription for doxycycline which starts out at $300 and gets reduced to $140. How much can this little dog endure? Asymptomatic for sure, but I am going to treat it in hopes of getting those WBC to bounce back a little better.
CONCLUSION: I have decided to end this, because it is very long and I feel like the worst of it is over. We had an amazing vacation and CM participated to the fullest extent.
Tomorrow will mark the halfway point for the chemo sessions. 5 down and 5 more to go. She will also get x-rays to check for any spread of the cancer.
I will write one more post after things have wrapped up. I have continued to be amazed at the resiliency of my CM. She has no idea what her body has had to battle over the last year and her energy and attitude have never been better. I continue to stress and get tearful from time to time, but I am focusing on mirroring her view on life. It surely is the better one to have.
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