Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Once more, Again and Again and Again; or Return of the Localized Night Sweats

[I'm exhausted.  What follows is just some rambling meanderings as to what has lead me to this point, sitting in front of the computer screen, typing while doped.  I went from crazy sore to too numb to sleep.  So I type.]

The current problem with the puppy, other than it being a small dog, a yippee little shit, a teething terror with the jaws of a piranha and a taste for my flesh, and has a puppy brain, is that it's too damn cute to not fall for.

Even Maya, the terror of puppies, loves this little brown furry land piranha.  Of course, Maya is deaf, so the yippee portion doesn't bug her much.

No, I like the dog.  I may even get used to the small dog concept.

*     *     *     *     *

The real problem is that this is harder than I thought it would be.

When I do my little jog/swim/jog, the ONE FUCKING THING I have been able to push myself with, the one way I have been able to really experience some progress, actual tangible progress, not simply subjective, I really do give it everything I have.  I hit the "I wanna quit and walk home" moment within a block of leaving the house, and no matter how well things go, I fight through so many pains during the outing that I am mentally fried when I finally get home.

I'm spent.  The tank is empty physically, the pain is everywhere, and the mind is like a scratched record, skipping, sliding and looping.

Enter Willa.

*     *     *     *     *

I mean, the puppy has been in a pen while I was out for 2.5-3 hours.

I go straight to her and pick her up to take outside so she can relieve herself (though a few times the excited pup went as I bent to pick her up).  Then, she becomes puppy spaas.  I do what I can to entertain her.

I don't get to recover from my rehab.

The next thing I know, the wife and kid are home, and I am desperately tired.

But now it's time to be Dad.  So, I do what more I can, though poorly at this point.

*     *     *     *     *

All the while, the body keeps changing.  It's high up the back now.  The kink/knot/fold is noticeably mixed with whatever it is that so often prevents me from swallowing.  It hurts my chest, and my right arm feels almost entirely unhinged, held on by some perversion of a tendon, still twisted beyond belief.

But I know some of the changes have been real, because the night sweats have returned.  They remain limited to the exact spots where I feel myself unfold.  The pillow of sheet beneath the spot is drenched when I awake, but nowhere else.

It must be like R.E.M for the negotiated muscle groups.

*     *     *     *     *

I'd sleep in, but the new alarm clock goes off.

My daughter wakes up to the puppy biting her nose.  She wakes and plays and takes both dogs outside to do their business.  She then wakes her mother.

I wake up shortly afterwards, when the puppy is finally biting too much, too hard, and creates the "No, no, no, No, No, NO, NO, NO, NO!" alarm that my daughter becomes.

Good thing she's cute, too.

Sunday, June 2, 2013

A Willa Of A Week

Things got bad.  Major swelling in the neck, jaw, and right ear have been quite overwhelming.  Eventually, I was given strong antibiotics.

I don't think the pain is a simple issue of an ear infection.  It has to be related to tensions, portions as yet unwound but under high torque and pressure as a result of previous adjustments with physical posture still not altered enough to compensate.

Anyways . . . I endured, and still endure.  I have yet been able to not require Narco for the pain.  I have yet to sleep better than one 3.5 hour session in the past 5 days (I think I've managed 10 hours).

So . . .

*     *     *     *     *

It was not exactly the perfect time for a new puppy.

*     *     *     *     *

We have settled on a name (for now, anyways), complete with Titles:

Willa, Cutie P'tutie, Queen of Doughnuts

Lizze and the wife provided the titles as Lizzie crowned Willa with a rubber doughnut squeeky toy, creating simultaneous "Oh, Cutie P'tutie" and "Queen of Doughnuts" declarations. 

Had a pic (or good lord, video) of that moment been possible, the content of this blog entry would have needed health warnings for those suseptible to death or injury by excessive cuteness.

*     *     *     *     *

She is a chocolate miniature schnauzer, and I feel completely out of my league (like a zit faced nerd high school student escorting a supermodel to the Prom).

She is unbelieveably cute.

Now, my last two dogs were both cute.  Matilda had been so "ugly cute" as to take second place in a Contra Costa County Ugly Dog Contest.

But both of them were mutts.  This dog is just sickeningly near perfect.  It's a good thing AKC does not allow chocolates (I believe they call them livers) to compete, or there is no way this one remained available for us at 11 weeks old.

*     *     *     *     *

Unfortunate to be in a trough of pain at present, but the boost from Willa has been substantial.

I have been shocked by how our 14 year old, Maya, the lab/boxer, archetype of a dominant female, has handled things.  She has been incredible.

There have been accidents, and the puppy is too tiny for Maya, creaky and heavy limbs, to try to play with, but she has been both incredibly tolerant, and seemingly more happy than she has been in years (this is the real surprise).

Recently over pneumonia, limbs hurting possibly much more than my own, she has been pretty much a food/treat oriented dog with moments of "yeah, it's nice of you to scratch me" sprinkled in.  Since Willa arrived, possibly mirroring the smiles and laughs by the rest of the family, Maya's tail tends to be higher and wagging more joyfully than it has in years, probably 5 years or more, since Matilda went blind. 

It's also all over her face, at least when pointed at us, not Willa.  She is still sending messages toward the pup, but the lip has only been barely lifted once, and Willa has done things that would have gotten other dogs on death's door just a year ago (as I prevented when my Mother's new dog growled at Maya upon entering OUR house for the first time - she wanted blood for that insult). 

It's day 3 now, and Willa has been bouncing on Maya's head.  Unthinkable.

It does get a bit depressing, however, knowing Maya just won't be able to play with Willa much, if ever.  I just don't know what she could do without accidentally crushing the pup.  On the few occasions she gets spry with us, she does not really possess body control anymore.

*     *     *     *     *

So, just as Summer is arriving, I also get a new puppy in my life.  Even the truly horrific physical hurdles of late, again keeping me from the pool and exercise, only bring moments of depression.

I'm miserable.  Make no mistake.

Yet, I'd be in despair otherwise.  Even moments of agony can't stop visions of uber-cuteness from bringing a smile or two.