colliemommie: (Default)

Look at this dog:

This is Glencora. She's 11, has arthritis and a bad haircut, doesn't hear very well, and this morning fell over this hill.


You can only see about half of it in this picture. The vertical half. My Fitbit tells me the entire height of the ravine is equivalent to 15 storeys.

This is the ravine behind our house. All kinds of critters live down at the bottom, and they wander up the hill at night to see what's going on. So I can see why the dogs like to go check it out occasionally; I'm sure it smells wonderful. Cora wandered about 2 feet down from the top and couldn't figure out how to get back up. I figured I'd get a leash, walk down the game trail to her, and then help her get back up. Unfortunately, by the time I got back with the leash she had slid down about 8 feet further.

I managed to get the leash on her, but she either could not see the Gametrail I was walking on, or just couldn't get herself stabilized. And I may be dumb, but I'm not dumb enough to try to carry a 45 pound dog on the side of a ravine. So I basically had to wish her good luck and say I see her at the bottom. I figured that from that angle it would be much easier for me to climb up and then help her find a safe way down.

So I ran out of our neighborhood down the side of the hill and up the path that the Township uses for maintenance of the storm drains down there. By the time I did that she was already down there, looking around in circles trying to figure out where home was.

I have absolutely no idea how she managed to get down that 20 foot vertical drop in one piece. Absolutely no idea. I really thought that she was going to be either dead or have several broken limbs.

The little stinker even walked home with a decided prance and a very self-satisfied look on her face. I guess she's happy to have a story to tell.

So, thankfully, Cora came out of her adventure none the worse for wear. On the other hand, I don't think I will ever be the same.

colliemommie: (Default)
Dear Speach Center of my Brain:

I know you're tired. Not being able to get more than an hour of sleep at a time is rough, and no one expects normal levels of performance right now.

But please stop telling people I have syphilis. I have shingles. Shingles.

Thank you. 
colliemommie: (facepalm)

...and I am the universe's bitch, I HAVE SHINGLES!

Fricking shingles. 26 and pregnant, with shingles. It's funny, but unfortunately no one is lying when they say shingles is "extremely painful". Incidentally, why does everyone use those two words to describe it? Always the same ones..."extremely painful".

On the plus side, I think my perinatologist now has considerable respect for my pain tolerance. I was talking to him on the phone last night trying to convince him that I understand the difference between discomfort and pain. Dealing with pregnancy-crazed women all the time, I don't think he believed me. Said it was probably an allergic reaction. This morning at the office he had about five people troop in to look at me and my textbook case of shingles. I felt like a guest star on House. The doctor used the magic words "extremely painful" and I got an appraising look that seemed pretty favorable. Hopefully my concept of pain will not be in question in the future.

I am trying to figure out how what looks like a rash can do absolutely everything EXCEPT itch. It burns, it has shooting pain, it radiates, it feels hot and infected, and it feels creepily like little tiny kittens are crawling up the inside of my skin using all their claws. The clawing feeling is the oddest, and hurts the most.

So now I am racking up brave little toaster points while I wait for this anti-viral to do something. I can't take any pain meds because of the little critter, but thankfully the shingles doesn't put it at risk at all. Apparently shingles is mainly a nerve thing, and there is no new infection in my blood, just the old chicken pox immunity.

Still, what the hell? Bruce went on at unflattering length about how this is just like me. Not only do I get every complication one could possibly expect, but then I get the absolute last thing you'd ever think I would get given my age, health, and condition.

Bruce's mom has gotten shingles fairly regularly ever since she had all that chemo four years ago. I told my mother-in-law I got them so I could be more like her. We both found that way too funny.

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colliemommie

December 2016

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