Despite Sunday, I got back on the treadmill yesterday. It's never going to get easier if I don't keep trying, right? And it was definitely much better than the last time, although I still needed to elevate and ice my shins, ankles and right knee afterward. I have some persisting soreness/achiness, similar to Sunday.
I was talking to Beth about the "bad run", and it occurred to me: I have these teeny little bird bones. There are children with bigger wrists than mine! So the bird bones are supporting all this extra weight, poor things. No wonder they hurt. I will help them by eating more cheese. Wait, no....
Today is a day off, which is a relief. I'm starting to think that the amount of ibuprofen that I consume cannot be a good thing, so I'm going to try to muddle through without it today. Tomorrow I'm going to brace my knee and see if that helps- maybe my gait is off because I'm protecting the knee.
In other news, I'm currently procrastinating. I have an immense list of Stuff To Do today, both on the homefront and at work. I should be getting dressed. Guess where I am instead? Here's a hint: it begins with a C and ends with an H, and there's coffee. Those beautiful days last week really got me excited for spring....and now there is cold and wet snow and that chilly damp that gets into your bird bones.
I did laugh, watching it snow sideways out my office window the other day. Flipping New England.
Friday: lunch and downtown with the girl....and playing outside
Yesterday, waiting for the bus
I've started that couch-to-5K program. Well, I've started it twice. My first attempt was fine until I sidelined myself for a week with some weird leg swelling thing. After babying my ankle for a couple of days and realizing that I didn't feel better, and after talking to some runners, I figured I was dealing with shin splints.
Okay, so this was discouraging on a couple of levels. First, I had to take some time off. Had to. I had swelling in my calf the likes of which I haven't seen since I was 7 1/2 months pregnant with Charlotte (not 9 months; I was much more swollen than that then). AND it hurt to walk.
Here's the other thing: has it really been so long since I've run regularly that I don't recognize shin splints? Damn.
A week (maybe more like 10 days?) off. Friday on the treadmill was painful, but just because I was sort out of practice...the first week of this plan is intervals of 60 seconds jogging and 90 seconds walking. Now, I hate the treadmill. I had convinced myself that the treadmill was to blame for the leg, that if I could just get off the revolving belt of DOOM, it would be easier.
I woke up this morning at my usual spoiled-girl-weekend hour of 8:00. The sky is that brilliant blue that you only get when the sun is shining, and it's the first day of spring! Why not get outside?
Because pavement is evil, that's why.
I decided to do the loop, which is about 2 miles. I figured that once I got through my 20 minutes of intervals I could walk the rest of the way home. It would be great! I would see birds, feel the sunshine on my face and breathe fresh air....
About 10 minutes in, the pain in my legs was just awful. My right knee, the one I sprained in high school track, ached with every step. I pushed further, egging myself on...childbirth hurts worse than this...nothing worth doing is easy....you can totally do this...listening to one of my high-energy iPod playlists.
Finally, cursing Ian Astbury for mocking me and cursing me for putting Fire Woman on the iPod in the first place, I figured I shouldn't hurt myself again. I could just walk! yeah. I'd be home in no time. What's a mile, really?
By the time I made it back here (wishing that there was a way I could crawl on my hands and knees), there were five things I needed. I couldn't decide which to go after first:
- the bathroom
- ice
- water
- advil
- stretching
I got all the things on my list, plus a banana, and felt a bit better. I made breakfast, and as I ate my homemade toast, I thought about the things I do that are challenging, and that I haven't always been able to do. Things like baking bread, and knitting, and writing.
I might not be ready for the road yet, but I'll be back on the hamster wheel the day after tomorrow. And maybe I'll be ready to run a 5K by May 7th, and maybe I won't. But trying is far better than hiding under my blanket on the couch and wishing I felt better.
Yesterday I was driving to work and thinking about the state of things and my situation there. I was on the Little Bay Bridge, and glanced out the window toward where men and equipment are dismantling the old bridge. There are the old supports, rusty and oxidized, the beaten and broken-down pavement, and then......nothing. Open space. A drop to the river below. It struck me that that is exactly where I'm headed at work, that there's really no way to the other side from here.
I have no interest in building an Acme Ramp Kit and trying to sail across the gap like some harried old Wile E. Coyote. I have no confidence that it would be worth it. It's absolutely time to move on.
On my good days, I'm angry and motivated. On my bad days I only want to curl up in a ball and drink wine because I am terrified- TERRIFIED- of finally making some decisions.
No one ever said that what we want and what we need are easy things to attain.
But today....having crossed the big bridge, Charlotte and I made our way home on Route 4. Driving over the Scammell, the sky fiery orange and deep blue, the crescent moon smiling at us, Charlotte singing "Happy Christmas" along with John Lennon...things were just right.
- I was in the car at 10:10 am, and at 10:10 pm.
- My counterparts at the other sites and I have been summoned to the college president's office tomorrow. I've been imagining walking through the halls on our way there while the Imperial March plays.
- New fuzzy pajama pants, a blueberry muffin from the Gingerbread Construction Company and chamomile tea have made me very happy in the last hour.
- Weezer is in Boston in two weeks. That would have been fun...
- It's very late again. Silly mind, go to sleep!
Pete: I brought you a bottle of wine.....
Me (holding an open beer): Oh, good, thank you. (*thinks*: oh good, I will drink that too.)
Turns out that "what tomorrow will bring" can only be described as a flaming bag of no-THANK-you. Boss gives notice + heightened fight or flight + situation where I should have kept my fool mouth shut = ughhhhh. No permanent damage done, but I see the writing on the wall. It just appears to be giving me the finger, that's all.
This has been quite a month. Lots of great moments, but kind of a cosmic kick in the head in some respects. I say that because as I've navigated the stressful stuff and upheld the balancing act, I've had the overwhelming feeling that I'm being shaken. "Hey! Psst! Hey YOU! You're on the wrong path, kid..." This might sound like I think the universe is punishing me for roads not taken, and I really really don't mean that. It's just that I feel nudged to look around me, to look within.
Anyway. Here are some things that lifted my spirits a bit today:
Joy the Baker. I love the beautiful kale and sweet potato soup pics, and the teeny kitten! There are also some beautiful aprons under her November giveaway, at least today there are. (PamWares on etsy).
The Bloggess. She writes. She's funny. When I go where the bad people go, and am sitting front row center with certain of my friends, I bet she'll be up on stage. Ha.
This post on Food Network Humor. I could absolutely be a Shredded Cheese Authority. I'm going to look for that job, as soon as I dust off my sadly outdated resume.
And this little person, who was so sweet to Bad Day Mama, didn't mind grilled cheese for dinner, and gave cuddles on the couch and during story time.
Not sure why I'm still awake...maybe just inertia. Going to bed means getting off the couch. It also means that before 6 am tomorrow it all starts again, and I am just not ready.
Five days off is good stuff. Let's see what tomorrow brings.
...and she was almost too shy to tell him what she wanted. Sweet girl.
Today I only got out of my jammies at around 4 pm, and that was because it was too cold to wear them to the grocery store. We needed milk, and I figured if I picked up a few select items we could get through tomorrow and do the usual weekly run on Sunday. Cleverrrr. And after dinner I put those pajamas right back on. Oh yeah. Living the high life here.
We watched movies (AstroBoy and Charlie & the Chocolate Factory) and hung out on the couch, but I also squared away some prep stuff for the Christmas knitting. I dug out needles, printed patterns, cleared space in my bag, and wound hanks of beautiful wool into nice neat little yarn cakes. Ahhh.
My only triumph of parenting for the day was making sure Charlotte had a shower, put on a clean nightgown, and brushed her teeth before bed. I am a rockstar!
I shopped a bit online, only really because I found a couple of decent deals and got free shipping at one place. One of my friends updated fb repeatedly with her whereabouts throughout the morning....and I must confess I did sort of chortle to myself as I drank a nice cup of coffee and made myself a frittata (garlic, grape tomatoes, arugula and cheese). In my jammies.
I just can't see leaving the warm flannel of my nest to go shopping in the wee small hours. But hey, whatever works for people....the ones out at 4 am today will doubtless be pleased with themselves when people like me are still working on finding/finishing/wrapping gifts on December 22nd. Ah well.
My mother-in-law, Mona, has been gone for eight years now. It's been nine years since that last Thanksgiving, where we crowded around the dining room table, before kids, and were a family celebrating a holiday with some weight.
And I think that one of the final gifts she left us is that we were forced to be responsible for our family. If we wanted to have a holiday, we needed to figure out the food and the place and the time. If we wanted to be a family, well, we needed to step up and be there. There was no waiting for Mom to plan Thanksgiving, or going back home for Christmas because she was there. And we've built our family, all of us, day by day, both the holidays and the ordinary days...the days where we all just mesh and the days where we just disagree.
I think she's proud of us. I felt that today.
Anyone out there with perfect crust, know that I have crust envy. I am willing to learn at the knee of anyone who can teach me before I need pie again! Martha- meh. Bittman (which I attempted today)- the balance of too-dry-to-stay-together and omg LOOK at all that freaking gluten I developed! is too difficult. Crust with vinegar, I couldn't bring myself to do....and although the Cook's Illustrated crust with vodka was a fine idea, I only have Stoli Razberi and Absolut Peppar in my house (what is wrong with me?).
Anyway. I think these pies are good. I hope. See 'em and weep. I figure if the crust is awful then at least the filling is sound!
Maple Bourbon Pecan, pre-baking. That crust is suspect, don't trust it for a second.
And after. See? you turn your back, that crust will sneak into the filling and steal your purse.
Same crust recipe, slightly better result. This one's pumpkin....with errant pumpkin puree spots. The pie has freckles....but hey, so do some of my favorite people.
S'more pie. My other pie plate is packed with the Christmas decorations up over the barn, so it got a springform to call home. It will get its marshmallow topping tomorrow, and a kitchen-torching before we eat it. Fire! Fire! heh heh heh.
I am psyched for tomorrow- family and food AND the knowledge that there are still three days left of the loooong weekend after. Brilliant.
In the wake of the past week, and my frustration at trying unsuccessfully to balance home and work (home WON), I lost my grip on the string of No Complaints, and watched it go sailing into the sky. I've had a few days where I recognized where I was going and resisted, but then broke the chain with one grouchy afternoon here, a bad day at work there...
Attempt #3, then. It seems like auspicious timing, during this week of Thanksgiving and the week after averting possible disaster, to remember how lucky I am and to truly to focus my energy on the positive and not on fruitless complaints.
I am continuing to learn how to face situations that need to change without venting, but also without passively absorbing whatever comes my way. I guess what I'm saying is that there are ways to voice dissent or dissatisfaction without whining, complaining or creating negative energy. I am trying to practice different and better responses, ones that put more positive out into the world....without losing who I am. Which, to be honest? is sometimes snarky, often sarcastic, and not interested in keeping silent simply to keep the peace, when sometimes there are things that need to be said.
So tomorrow, which is November 24th, is Day 1. Again. Right now? Not much to complain about. Jammies, wine, cooking shows on DVR, new magazine...and tomorrow I get to bake for my family and work on some holiday knitting (and even finish a couple of gifts!) and just do one thing at a time. I am a lucky girl.
- Watching The Venture Bros.
- Inhaling the scent of an apple pie we can't eat (it will go to a work potluck tomorrow).
- Kind of wishing I could turn out more perfect pies more consistently.
- Finally picking up my drink again after all the ice has melted.
- Thinking that there maybe should be more hours in a day. Except knowing me, I'd likely just use them for more sleep instead of something good. Although sleep is good.
Today was so busy, but fun...planning for pie-baking later this week, installing flannel sheets, guerilla Sunday-before-Thanksgiving grocery shopping with the girl, and cooking the first meal from my new cookbook for friends. Sadly, no pics of Spicy New England Pot Roast, Ismail Merchant's Pureed Spinach or roasted potaotes, but they were yummy.
And now I am watching recorded episodes of The French Chef: "How to Roast a Turkey." I love Julia Child.
Eat, kitty, eat. Whoever heard of a skinny Jimmy?
(Mrs. Claus, Rankin-Bass' Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer)
Today started with a bit of freaking out, as the catboy didn't really eat at all last night and was hiding under an end table this morning while I hunted for him. After sharing all of this with one of the vet techs when I dropped him off, I drove away, worrying, a bit teary.
I won't say that I tried not to worry today, because there is no not worrying in this situation. But I tried to stay in the moment, mindful. I can be upset, worried, fearful. I can be there, feel that, and then move on. I made my way through the day, and when the OD called with news, although I was steeled for whatever might come, I was as pleasantly surprised as she was, and so grateful.
Jimmy has made a most amazing recovery. This is not to say that he is all better, but that in a few short days, his levels are dropping, his small furry body responding to treatment. The OD said that he was bright-eyed, responsive, curious. She said that although some of those things are subjective, that the objective factors bear out his recovery. Mind you, we have a long road of medication and watching to be sure he eats....follow up labs and twice-yearly exams until we see what the new normal will be for him. But. He is here. He is still here.
I got him home, and felt sort of weird about leaving again to keep a hair appointment. I'm glad I did; some time away from work and home and caring for sick kitty was much needed and so good. I sat in the massage-y chair for my shampoo. I had wine and chatted with the stylist, who is someone I saw regularly for pedis last year and who I really enjoy. When I left, my head felt lighter, but not for loss of hair.
So my "here, now": couch. Wine and chocolate. Snoozy cat on one side of me, snoozy man on the other. Headache numbed a bit and only tomorrow left to the workweek. We might not even have to go to the vet tomorrow....but if we do, our Jimmy will spend one more day with his fan club (which has quite the membership; everyone loves that boy!). Either way, it's another day where we'll all put our feet on the floor, whether we have two or four of them.
It occurred to me as I drove to the animal hospital this morning that it would be the 5th round trip from here-ish (including my office) to there in two days. And I thought, "am I crazy? Is this beyond what normal people would do for their cat?"
And then I remembered: I don't care. Jimmy is my friend and I love him and this is what I think is right.
I dropped Jimmy off at the direction of the Best Vet Ever, who had given me hope and encouragement yesterday afternoon when we spoke, noting that some of the bad bloodwork numbers were dropping (good) and that he had perked up (also good). We took him home last night, with his port still intact, to give him loves and get him to eat and basically try to have some normalcy ("There's that word again...I don't think it means what you think it means."). The BVE also managed his pain- thank you!- and made sure to give him one more dose before sending him home with us. Today we were to bring him back, for more IV fluids and antibiotics.
I had been feeling pretty good about his progress, until I called this afternoon and spoke with, well, not the Best Vet Ever, but the Other Doctor. The Other Doctor was full of doom and gloom, of dire predictions of permanent damage (the BVE had said she really felt there would be minimal permanent damage) and faulty phosphorus absorption....medications...mix this one with food, this one with water....not eating is problematic....no, she has no idea why such-and-such is happening and frankly she's not concerned about it.
I get the suspicion that the Other Doctor is one of those people who works with animals because she doesn't like dealing with people and isn't particularly good at it.
And tonight he is not as perky, hasn't eaten. He's still really so so sick, thin. He seems angry and tired, neither of which is surprising. He's, um, incontinent. He's happy to be home for sure, and maybe will eat and drink when no one is looking later. Tomorrow he goes back again for one more test, and possibly more fluids. They tell me that often with kidney disease (which is how the OD is referring to this) the third day on IV fluids is the turning point. Alright, turning point, yes please. We can getz betr? okthx.
(napping Jimmy)
Our boy is at the vet's office right now, undergoing treatment for failing kidneys. His doctor, the Best Vet Ever (no joke, she is amazing), thinks that he could have a kidney infection....or it might be something worse.
Jimmy had seemed to be his usual self lately, but was sick to his stomach more often than hairball-normal on Saturday. Hmm. Then on Sunday, he had some incontinence issues and was not eating or drinking much. Okay, something's wrong. I spent a good portion of the evening trying to cajole him into at least drinking some water. Let's be honest: at 11:30 I was on the floor with him, trying to give him fluid with a baby medicine dropper.
Yesterday was one of those Goodfellas days where I ran from place to place at warp speed, hearing Harry Nilsson in my head, jumpy and looking over my shoulder for helicopters. Check on sick cat. Email boss. Get kidlet ready for school. Call vet. Kidlet on bus. Sick and crying cat to vet. Me to work. Phone calls to vet, husband, vet, husband, boss. Pick up better? cat. Pick up kidlet just before afterschool late pickup. Home. Give urine-covered cat a bath. Feed kidlet. Cajole (damp, but no longer dripping) cat into eating and drinking. And so on....
The diagnosis yesterday had been a UTI. After subcutaneous fluid and antibiotic and vitamin B shots, he really had perked up a bit. We came home with a 10 day supply of another antibiotic (pills, yikes) and with instructions for me to make sure he eats, otherwise they would recommend syringe feeding. Although his bloodwork was back and showed elevated white cells and leukocytes (duh), the more comprehensive stuff for liver and kidney and pancreatic function would not be in until today.
This morning, he was happy and purring, eating, drinking his water, interacting with Pepper.
Then I got a phone call.
I was driving. Of COURSE.
The Best Vet Ever proceeds to tell me that my improving! cat is critically ill. That the improvements are temporary, and that he needs IV fluids and antibiotics. NOW.
So I change directions, head back. More phone calls. When I come to pick him up, Jimmy doesn't resist. He knows he's sick. He knows where I'm taking him.
As I drive to the vet, I try not to think about Frances.
When I talked to my friend/boss Shaman today, he told me that I need to "go in there hopeful, Lor, but you need to try to prepare yourself for the worst." To a degree, he's right. When we determined that Frances could not be cured, that her quality of life would never be the same, I was blindsided.
Still.
I feel guilty, because this kitty was sick for some time before we saw the distress signals. One of the vets pointed out that, "if it were you or me, and we were this sick, we would have seen a doctor ten days ago." She wasn't being judgy; she followed it up with the observation that animals, particularly cats, are biologically programmed to conceal their weaknesses.
Okay. So some perspective.
He is young, and strong. Short of the hairball horking, he doesn't get sick. This could be a very very bad infection, and the right care could do the trick. He's in the right place to get the right care.
And if it's something worse? Well, he got to come home last night, where he was loved and fussed over and he and I curled up together on the couch and snoozed.
Good thoughts, please...
Charlotte: Mommy. What would happen if you went trick-or-treating in December? Would they still have to give you candy?
Me: Well, people most likely wouldn't be expecting you, since really no one is trick-or-treating then.
C: But would they give you something anyway?
Me: I think you would only get what people could find in their houses to give you. You'd probably end up with Brillo pads and Grape-Nuts.
C: What's a Grape-Nut?
Yesterday, waiting for the bus
