Now I am Getting Mad
My sadness over my precious Max’s death is slowly being replaced with anger. I am angry at the Vet {Southern Kern Vet Clinic} who told me on Thursday afternoon that there was nothing “catastrophically wrong” with Max. If that were truly the case, then why in the hell was my dog dead within 24 hours? I am fairly certain the lymphoma and heart twice the normal size didn’t happen in 24 hours.
Why did the second Vet {Quartz Hill Vet Clinic}, who talked to us and let me sit and pet my sweet, sweet Max for as long as I wanted, point out to me that she didn’t understand why the first Vet didn’t even mention the enlarged heart to her. She felt the enlarged heart was more of an issue than the “apparent mass on his liver.” And seeing as he actually went into cardiac arrest and died I am guessing she was right.
Why won’t they let me have my dog’s X-rays? I just want to be able to show the Husband how big Max’s heart was. On a silly level, the Husband knows how big his heart was, but I want him to be able to see physically what happened to Max. My guess is that is has more to do with litigation fears than “needing them for their records.” Again, I know my dog was sick and I certainly have way too many other things to do with my time than sue a Vet for being stupid.
On a logical level, I know that my Max was sick and I know he wasn’t going to live forever. What makes me the most angry is that I wasn’t given the opportunity to prepare myself for that horrible phone call.
I truly believed that while my Max was sick, that I would be able to bring him home from the ultrasound. Yes, I knew I would maybe be bringing him home to die, but at least I could have helped the Big One say goodbye. I could have taken a couple more pictures of him with the girls so they could remember their first doggie a little bit better.
I did say goodbye on Thursday night. As I lie on the floor with him, we talked about how great a friend, companion and protector he was. I assured him that it was okay to leave us if he had to. I made peace with him, but had that small glimmer of hope when I saw that he had moved from one room to the other on Friday morning.
I know there are a million people out there who think, “it’s just a dog.” But to me Max was so, so much more.
On a side note, I am totally screwed if the five steps of grief really are:
- Denial
- Anger
- Bargaining
- Depression
- Acceptance
And I am only on anger. UGH! Crap, it’s going to be a long few weeks or moths.
A Sad, Sad, Sad Day! ~ My Max is Gone
I honest to goodness cannot remember when I felt so ill, heartbroken, sad and defeated all in one day. We lost our precious dog Max ~ the best dog in the entire world~ today.
It started innocently enough on Wednesday night. He didn’t finish his dinner which was extremely unusual. Then after I got the girls to bed, Max started throwing up. After the first time, I got him outside where he threw up again.
It’s not the first time he’s gotten sick and I just figured it wouldn’t be the last either. Thursday morning I found another pile of barf on the floor and noticed he was having a hard time walking.
I knew something was wrong and debated loading everyone up and heading to San Diego so I had family back-up if Max was truly sick and needed medication or constant monitoring. I decided it was way too much work to drive three and a half hours with both kids and potentially a puking dog. So instead I went next door and blurted out to the neighbors something about needing a vet for Max.
Susan, my neighbor told me she knew of one locally and volunteered her son Eddie to go with me. {Just a side note, the Husband is out of town for 30 days for training for work.} Eddie, bless his soul agreed to go with me, not knowing what was even going on.
So we took Max {we equals me, the Big One, the Little One and Eddie carrying the 70-pound terrier}. We were quite the sight bombarding the Vet’s office. {Southern Kern Vet Clinic} We decide they will do some X-rays and blood work to try and figure out what was going on. It was obvious to everyone that my sweet, sweet Max was not feeling well.
After an agonizing four hours, I called the Vet for the verdict. He told me there was “nothing catastrophically wrong” with Max. His white blood cell counts were high, his liver enzymes were high and it looked as if there was a mass on his liver. He recommended bringing Max home with some antibiotics and see if he just had a weird infection. If in the morning he wasn’t well, the Vet recommended either sedating Max and getting another X-ray or doing an ultra sound to determine the problems.
On Thursday night, Max was immobile. He wouldn’t move from the spot he was in. I stayed with him until about 11 p.m. and then went up to bed. I slept off an on and finally came down at 5 a.m. to check on him. He was in the exact same spot I had left him in. I patted him, told him I loved him and left him alone. When I came back downstairs at 7 a.m. Max was in the play room. I had left him in the living room. There was a small glimmer of hope that he was feeling better.
Then I saw it. There was a trail of black sludgy poop from the living room to the play room, but at least I knew he could walk. I called the Vet and told them I wanted an ultrasound. My fabulous friend, Karen, pointed out that what would probably happen if we did the X-ray was that it would be inconclusive and we’d have to do the ultrasound anyway. She was right.
I went next door to summon Eddie again and beg him to come with me. My 70-pound lump of love was too much for me to handle with both kids. He graciously agreed, canceling an appointment he had.
We ended up having to wait at the Vet {Quartz Hill Vet Clinic} for an hour just to drop him off. Apparently everybody else’s dog got sick today too.
They explained that they would be starting the procedure in about 30 minutes and that it would take about 30 minutes to do the procedure. I assumed they would call me in about an hour or so.
My sister and mom made the drive up and had just gotten to the house when I noticed it had been almost two hours since we left him. I told them what was happening and then I said it had been two hours so I knew something was wrong. They tried to assure me that the Vet’s office was just running late or dealing with some other issues and not to worry. Not 10 minutes later, the phone rang.
I could tell immediately from the Vet’s tone that something terrible had happened. She was very hesitant and then finally said, “we lost him.”
I screamed and collapsed on the ground in tears which of course set my mom off and freaked the Big One out. She was very concerned and I was trying to be a good mom and not freak her out more. But I failed miserably. Max was my first baby. I had had him for 10 years.
At some point my sister took the phone and spoke to the Vet while I tried unsuccessfully to control my emotions.
After an hour or so, I was ready to go say good-bye. My sister drove me while my mom watched the girls. It was so heartbreaking to see my Max lying there. He looked very peaceful and calm. But he was gone and I am just so, so, so sad.
Apparently after the ultrasound was completed, he started throwing up and then according to the vet, he just “stopped.” Everything stopped. He went into cardiac arrest. She said they got his heart re-started two times, but just couldn’t get him back.
The ultrasound points to lymphoma. His heart, liver, kidneys and lymph nodes were all enlarged. That coupled with the elevated white blood cells indicate cancer. We saw the x-rays and were astonished at how big his heart was.
Well, I wasn’t really all that surprised he was the sweetest, most wonderful dog in the world. I love you Max. And miss you terribly.
This was our Christmas 2006 picture. You can’t see the Little One because she was in my tummy. 🙂
Where Does it Go?
As I was laying in bed last night listening to the Little One cry, while anticipating when/if the dog was going to puke again I had an hilariously funny, fabulously entertaining post in my head. I wrote almost the whole thing out in my brain and then I somehow drifted off to sleepy land, where apparently the best posts go to die.
Note to self: You really need to put the paper and pen next to the bed. I’m sure it would have been a great, multiple comment-provoking blog and now it’s gone. *sigh*
A Potty in My Kitchen
Yes, there is a potty in my kitchen. No I am not trying to be funny. It’s not a “party,” it’s definitely a potty. Trust me, potty training the Big One is not a party.
I have really tried to take a laid-back approach to the potty training thing. Everything that I have read says not to push your toddler, to let them go on the potty when they are ready. So for the most part we have left it alone. Trust me, we have tried in the past to “force” issues with the Big One and it just doesn’t work.
So recently she has been showing definite interest in going on the potty. Like I said I don’t push her, if she wants to go on the potty great. If she wants to continue on in a wet, stinky, cold diaper more power to her.
It started a couple days ago, she told me she needed to go, so we got her pants and diaper off and she took her seat on the potty in the bathroom. Now here is where we are struggling. Sometimes she pees immediately upon sitting on the potty. But most of the time she sits and sits and sits. Occasionally she groans a bit to “push the poopies out.” I’m not really sure where the groaning and grunting come into play. I have perfected the art of pooping without an audience so she didn’t get it from me. {yes, I still pee with an audience but I have figured out the timing on the solo poop.}
Anyway, after a couple minutes of sitting, she realizes that she still has her shirt on so that must be the problem. Somehow she’s decided that in order to go on the potty she needs to be completely naked. Apparently it helps to get things flowing. Well, technically she is not completely naked she is still wearing her blue socks.
So we take her shirt off and on this particular day, I tell her that I need to go start making dinner. Not wanting to be alone in the bathroom on the potty, she stands up, picks up the potty and follows me into the kitchen.
She says she needs to “see mommy and <Little One>” while she tries to go potty. So there we were, Little One in her high chair, me cooking dinner, and the Big One sitting with her blue socks on in the middle of my kitchen.
By now she’s been on the potty for close to an hour {yes, you read that right}. When Suddenly Big One jumps up yelling triumphantly, “I peed… I peed… I peed.” So I stopped the dinner prep to high-five and jump excitedly with the Big One as we celebrated the pee in my kitchen.
Unfortunately I think we have set a precedent. Big One has been carrying the potty with her from room to room to room since that one day. She apparently doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to pee in the potty. I’m sure the “experts” will say that we are somehow scaring her for life by letting her walk around naked, carrying the potty for hours, but I don’t know what else to do. I certainly don’t want to squelch her excitement about going on the potty
Eradicating Enemy Number One
Today is the big day. I am done. I can’t take it any longer. It has to stop. So today we are on a search and destroy mission in my house. No pacifier is safe today. We will find each and every one of them and they will be destroyed.
What brought along such a violent approach? Three nights in a row of be startled awake by the blood curdling screams from the Big One when she couldn’t locate the dreaded paci.
The Big One will be 3 years old in two weeks, it is high time to get rid of the dumb thing. We’ve tried in the past and somehow she always gets another one. We’ve tried cutting the tips off of them so they are “broken.” We’ve tried the “Big girls don’t need pacis” approach. We’ve tried the “sending them to the babies” approach. Somehow none of them have worked.
The Big One has discovered one in the bottom of my purse. She has found several in my car {they must be like rabbits with the way they multiply}. She has even gone so far as to steal them from the Little One.
So tonight we are going paci free. The Little One is getting dragged into this battle now so that I don’t have to re-live it in another year. Yes, I will also be taking them away from the Little One too. I figure if one of them is going to scream all night, might as well add the other to the mix. If you’ve got any tips to make the transition easier, please send them my way.
The biggest challenge with tonight’s cold turkey mission is that it will coincide with another life-changing event for the Big One. The parental unit is on their way to our house as I type with the “big girl” bed. Yes, we are combining two life altering moments tonight. We will be going paci-free in a brand new twin bed.
I know the psychologists reading this {you know you are out there} are cringing and shaking your heads at me. I know it’s a mistake to combine two “life-changing” events at the same time. Trust me, it’s not the first time I’ve screwed up with the Big One. And I can guarantee that it won’t be the last. Hey! Maybe I’ll go for the triple threat and put her in panties and throw the diapers away tonight too.
C’mon you didn’t think I was serious did you. I’m not a total moron. I am after all the one who would have to clean the sheets in the middle of the night when she peed all over the brand new bed.
Perspective… It Makes the World Go Round
I am always amazed how everyone sees the world so differently. I have several great friends who see things completely opposite of me. We all know one another’s perspective and opinions on certain topics and have agreed to disagree. It’s a great thing when you can put aside differences and find common ground with great friends.
I have one group of great gals that all have kids the same age as the Big One. The kiddos will all be turning three in the next month or so. Our situations are all different. Some of us are experiencing the “terrible twos” for the first time, while others are celebrating it being the last time they have to deal with them.
One of the girls sent an e-mail the other day lamenting how wonderful this age is. She wrote: {please don’t get offended Renee that I am sharing this}
Are all of you just loving the stage that our May babies are at? I am sooooo enjoying Kaden so much. I don’t know if it is because he is my last baby or what but I just “inhale” all of his cuteness everyday. I just can’t get enough sometimes. I am sooo thankful for him in our life. I just could not imagine my life without him.
Based on the last few days in my house, I have to say the she is on crack! Okay, just kidding. But I do have to say I think it is Renee’s perspective that makes her gush with joy over toddler-ville. Since he is her last baby, this wonderful time is a joy to behold.
Now for me, since the Big One is my first I have to say I could really live without this stage. At least once a day, she frustrates me almost to tears. She is sassy, whiny, demanding and generally rotten to be around. Yes, I love her to pieces, I just wish I could eliminate certain pieces of her– especially her mouth!
I do love that she is learning to be independent, voice her opinions and develop her little personality. However I just wish she could do it without yelling, doing the whiney dance, and crying.
I know she is only two and that while she is a great talker, she doesn’t know how to express her frustrations and feelings appropriately. I also know that it is my job to help her learn how to do this effectively (note: the screaming and whiney dance are not effective). But how many times a day to have to say, “STOP! Don’t whine, talk to me in a big girl voice and tell me what you want.”
Based on the number of times a day I have to say it, I am beginning to fear that my child is a slow learner. Thank God the Husband is a math geek. I know I don’t have the patience to teach fractions to this one!
Where’s the &#$@ing Quality Control?
Not only has customer service gone down the crapper, so has quality control. Call me crazy but when I go to Starbucks, I expect my grande iced white mocha to taste a certain way. If I am going to spend $4 on a freaking cup of coffee, I want it to like a grande iced white mocha. I don’t want it to taste like the bottom of the rotten milk carton smells.
As I mentioned before, I heart McDonald’s vanilla iced coffee. It rocks and for only $2 it’s truly makes my heart skip a beat. But every once in a while, I like to indulge in a little Starbucky goodness. Okay, typically it’s on a day when my kids are driving me batty that I go for the Starbucks.
Today was obviously one of those days. We were at a little furniture store buying a “big-girl” bed for the Big One. She currently sleeps in the Step 2 Fire Engine Bed . It’s very, very cute, but she plays on it more than sleeps on it. So the Husband and I decided we’d try a twin bed. We took the parental unit with us last weekend to look for kiddie beds and found this cute picket fence-like bed.
I took the kiddos today to buy it and set-up the delivery time. The Little One, who is generally the sweetest child in the world, started screaming like a crazy person in the store. There were alligator tears, shrieks and general unhappiness oozing from her. Not to be outdone, the Big One was loud, climbing on all the beds and generally unruly.
Once we paid for the bed. {God, I hope the mattress is comfortable. I’m really not sure which one I paid for as my kids were out of control.} We head for the car, but not before the Big One screams “I pee-peed…. I pee-peed” at which time she starts doing the cowboy walk out of the store. Seeing as how she was climbing on the one mattress that didn’t have a plastic cover on it, I quickly ushered her to the car and prayed that the diaper wasn’t leaking.
Once I get the Big One changed and both kids strapped in, I head for Starbucks. Yes, I have mapped out almost every one with a drive-thru so I knew exactly where to go. I ordered my 470 calorie beverage, my mouth was watering at the thought of that first sip. Imagine my disappointment, no angst, no rage as that first sip almost killed me. Seriously almost crashed the car into the back of a big old white van that was in front of us as I tried to choke down whatever crap it was that they put in my drink.
On any other day, I would have gone back and asked for my money, but considering my frustration level today I chose to merely focus on driving home and putting the kids down for a nap, figuring that $4 wasted was better than eternity in prison. I am afraid that if I would have gone in there the poor unsuspecting barista who tried to poison me would have been my dad’s next customer. {I know you are curious now, what does her dad do? Ask me, I might tell you}
What would you have done? Have you ever gone back someplace and demanded money or a new drink? Or opened up a can of whoop-arse on some schmuck who tried to poison you?
How Young is Too Young…
To let them fight to the death? I knew the day would come, but I really didn’t think it would be this early. Call me naïve, call me stupid, just don’t call me to break it up.
The Big One will be 3 next month and the Little One turned 1 a few weeks ago. I really thought it wouldn’t start until they were 2 and 4. I know, I know, I know, not so smart, huh?
We are visiting the parental unit for a few days. Actually we’ve been here and week and don’t know for sure when we are going home. The Husband is gone for work for a month so there is no big rush to get home {except for sleeping in the comfort of my own bed}.
Our nieces are older (18 and 14 (today Happy B-Day Niki!)} so the toy selection at grandma and grandpa’s house is limited. However, the Little One’s birthday party was down here a few weeks ago so there are a few new toys still here. Let’s face it, my house looks like Geoffrey {from Toys R Us} puked so we intentionally left some new cool toys here at the folks’ house to make our visits more fun. {that’s not to say grandma and grandpa aren’t fun, but sometimes you need something that lights up and makes noise to keep my kids entertained}.
So this morning I was reading a book to the Big One while the Little One happily played with some toys. The Little One decided she wanted to play with the new Pooh Bear Choo-Choo Train ride-a-long thing. {thanks, Aunt Tami}. At which point, the Big One decided that she needed to play with it also.
So what happened? The Big One, as usual, managed to push the Little One out of the way, hopped on the train and took off riding it around the living room. Obviously the Little One is not big enough to get on the thing by herself, nor is she fast enough to catch her sister. So the Little One did the only thing she can do. She channeled her inner demon and screamed like a banchee. I kid you not, the Little One is the sweetest kid in the entire world, so I was a bit surprised at where this shriek came from.
After the scream, she hightailed it after her sister. Of course she wasn’t going to catch her, but she tried. By then the Big One ran out of room to ride so she had to turn around and came toward the Little One and me. The Little One seeing the opportunity, pulled herself up on the train and took a swing at her sister. It was hilarious. {bad mom, I know but it was funny} Don’t be calling CPS on me, she had no idea what she was doing we don’t hit with closed fists in this house. She just wanted to let her sister know she was not happy and flailing her arms about is about her only defense.
If it’s starting this young, I can hardly wait for them to get a bit older and really start going at it.
Yakety Yak.. Shut the Heck Up!
I swear that’s how people look at me and the kiddos when we are shopping. I know my girls are loud. But isn’t talking a lot a sign of great intelligence and creativity?
We were at Vons shopping today. The Big One was “driving” the car cart and the Little One was in the small basket part by me. Yes these carts are 8 feet long so the Big One and I probably are a bit loud when trying to communicate, but for goodness sake she is two and curious. And she’s supposed to be loud, it’s in the manual.
It seriously felt like everyone was looking at us with pity as we walked through the store. They all had that, “you poor woman, you don’t get any peace” look on their faces. Yes, it’s true it’s rarely quiet at my house, but it’s really not all that bad.
Yes I whine about it, but deep, deep down I know that talking and reading to my kids will help them with their communications skills, critical thinking and generally help make them brilliant women who will one day change the world for the better.
Over the last few days, I’ve been observing several moms and kids. They mainly walk through the aisles mundanely putting things in their carts while rarely sharing a word. Sometimes the kids ask questions, whine about something or ask for something and the moms I’ve seen put the kibosh on the conversation before it even gets goings.
I just don’t get it.
We have running dialogues as we walk through the aisles. We talk about everything from what is on the shelves, to what we are looking for, to what’s for dinner and why the sky is blue. {If you’ve got a great answer to that one, please post a comment and share your secret with me.}
I am sure that there are people who are shopping around us who don’t care about what we are having for dinner, what Barney movie we are leaving at grandma’s house or what color underwear we are wearing {it comes with the potty training territory; underwear color is a very important topic of conversation}, but I don’t care. All this talking is sure to help them grow up to be smart, confident and awesome.
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