Oldernowiser

My good news is that I got the right women on the phone at the vet yesterday after my dog’s incision looked even worse and I emailed them gory photos. They recommended hot compresses 3-5 times a day (why of course I’m doing it 6 times a day, surely y’all are aware of my obsessive tendencies by now) and while it’s still oozing a bit, it looks a bit better today and doesn’t smell quite as infected. The vet is supposed to call me first thing tomorrow and I suspect my boy is going to be on antibiotics. The really good news is that I didn’t have to try to hoist 80 lbs of retriever by myself into the tiny back of our ancient “only goes to Home Depot” truck yesterday for a trip to the Emergency Vet. Because, of course, my husband was out of town in our SUV for the first time in all of 2020 for one day. Reason for his trip? Buying a new truck that will have more riding room for both dogs. My life is irony-rich.

Aw, CM... want us to add him to the Shin Kicking List? As he has gotten older, my usually lovely husband has also started up with the occasional pompous opinion about whatever I’m doing. Because he is usually lovely, I give him the benefit of the doubt for two or three...then I give him The Look. I am also not above pointing out that acting exactly like my deceased control-freak father is never going to get him laid. I send you a hug.

She’ll probably turn out to be Miss Fundie Arkansas in fifteen years, but this is the first thing I thought of...

DRod looks like a prime candidate for Metabolic Syndrome and its fun manifestations...heart disease, stroke, diabetes. He also looks utterly exhausted most of the time. Also his liver may be on borrowed time. I am guessing he lives on high fructose corn syrup and sugar (who “accidentally” drinks hummingbird nectar?) and fast food. Not shaming him, really...if I were tied to Jill for eternity I would be eating myself to death, too.

It’s not farfetched to believe JRod made the whole thing up.

Rickets.

Quick, someone with strong lungs holler up there and lie to him, “DON’T JUMP, TIMBITS!!!!! YOU WON’T DIE A VIRGIN JUST BECAUSE YOUR MOTHER IS INSANE AND YOU ARE ESSENTIALLY UNEMPLOYABLE!!!!!!!!”

Brava!!!!!!!!!!

She lives for that. It’s a high.

Good for you for standing up for yourself! As for what “they” might tell people...take it from someone who’s wasted much too much time in my six decades worrying about what other people might think. You can’t make everybody happy or make everyone like you and trying all the time is just fucking exhausting. Get some healthy food and some rest, yes?

@Mindthinkr, Every last one of them needs to get a grip. It sounds like everyone is taking their emotions out on you and that’s wrong and abusive. Call their bluff? A sentence you can repeat over and over might help: “This is what I can do at this time. You will need to make other arrangements.” My guess is they just want a punching bag who also does all the work. If they do push you away, they will find out just how hard this really is. Want us to come kick them in the shins? I kick hard.

So Kaylee is a bitch or Mama just put words in her mouth. They all need To get over themselves. Or in words they might actually deign to read, “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” Proverbs 16:18 From a Godless Liberal, no less.

What, you don’t like icing that’s 90% Crisco blended with sugar, preservatives, artificial color and flavoring? 🤢

You okay, sweetie?

It gets her cookies?

I swear this year has made everyone crazy. One of my dog’s incisions is still bleeding a bit three days post surgery. I called the vet’s office to see what his availability is early next week just in case. I got, “I’m sorry, but he’s fully booked all week.” I got snippy: “If this continues over the weekend he’s going to need to be seen on an emergency basis, so somehow that’s going to have to be arranged.” (The “goddamnit” was silent, was strongly implied.) FFS.

Ugh. I suppose the kindest assumption is that the surgeon ran into a case that was more complicated that expected. But waiting like that just sucks. If you don’t get a call by the end of the day find out if they have a patient advocate or call the administrative office and raise a polite form of hell?

@Mindthinkr, the hardest lesson for some of us is to learn to take care of ourselves first and to say “no” when others are just delighted to take advantage of our tendency to step in when they won’t. You might want to do some research on codependency? Mr. Chemo can suck it up. There’s an old analogy in codependency recovery that when the plane is going down, they always tell you to put your oxygen mask on first before assisting others. Get your oxygen, yes?

Okay, so I knew Jess was going to slither back eventually. He’s every bit as loathsome as ever. I will begrudgingly admit he was handsome...but either he hasn’t aged well or the all-encompassing beanie-instead-of-eyebrows look REALLY doesn’t work for him. Like it wouldn’t be cheaper to buy another beater in California than to fly to the east coast to retrieve that piece of crap? Especially since supposedly Liz just found out about the car from Luke that morning so I can only assume Leather Punkadaro went immediately to the airport in California and flew east...because those last-minute fares are so reasonable. The logical holes in this show are just enormous sometimes.

Now there’s a picture that might draw in a few sinners to his sad lecture. SEVERELY lonely sinners, but hey...

Sad drooling stoned dog is home, although I’m not sure he’s awake enough to know. Poor baby...his back looks like flying over Nebraska after the corn harvest...SEVERE owner guilt right now.

It’s almost exactly 10 minutes in if you include the recap.

Thanks, IWC...you’re sweet to ask. It’s relatively minor...he’s having some lumps removed and you’d think, since I was once a vet tech, that I would be calm about this. Oh No. I’ve been awake since 2 a.m. fretting. He’s an utter spoiled goober, has me completely wrapped around his paw, and did I mention I AM FRETTING.

Can you call the place where you had the scan done and ask them if it’s been read and sent to your doctor? Or do I have this backwards... I am now a devotee of the Relentless Polite Phone Call/Email/Everything School of dealing with any monolithic and overly powerful organization. I called the vet’s office four times yesterday. I finally got answers and my boy is there having surgery as we speak 😱😬😱 My brother-in-law also relies on the polite but firm, “please transfer me to your manager” method. Sadly, I suspect that works better for men. Just keep calling. If they say they don’t know, ask who you can call to find out. Boneheads.

Aw, Ginger90, that’s got to be a stew of difficult emotions. I’m so sorry.