42 on 4/2

Happy Birthday to me.

Adjustments to my shoulders-collar bone-neck-jaw have left me with dual "ear infections" that NARCO barely helps.  Major shifts in the jaw muscles, it hurts much differently than the classic ear infections I have known my whole life.  It is much more about swelling of the head at the base of the jaws that puts pressure on both ears.

My glasses are tight. 

My hats all squeeze my head, currently shaved, to a point of great pain.

And the mental pain of a wasted decade taxes on me so as another candle hits the cake.

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But it's my birthday . . .

So, I'll plug my ears with vasolined cotton balls and try to enjoy a dip or two in the spa.

I'll try to find something good to watch on TV.

I'll probably visit Skyrim for a few ours.

I'll hope for something yummy for dinner.

I'll search the channels for a game played by one of my teams.

Wait, this is like every other day.

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Not entirely.  Maya is still under a watchful eye.

My Maya, a crazy dominant Lab-Boxer female, 80 lbs. and a week or two shy of 14 years old, is clearly on her last legs.

She has pneumonia.  We are treating it the best we can, but fear underlying conditions are the root cause.

I had a tear filled day last week waiting for a vet trip I was convinced would be her last, but the anti-biotics have picked her up substantially.  I can't say things look good, however.

My gut says she'll pull through and have one last summer.

When it was at it's worst, I empathized far more than anyone should.  She was not happy.  She was in great pain.  She'd avoid moving rather than continue the struggle.  She'd given up, the only difference between the two of us.

I fear there is brain damage.  Why else would I not give up?

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On top of it all, the Giants gave LA a wet dream opening day yesterday.  That would annoy me to all end, but for the delusional fans that kept arguing the Bruce Bochy had no role in the loss, far more annoying (and predictable) than the loss itself.  The God of Bullpens, yet when he screws up they all give excuse after excuse. 

Now they are 0-1, with another game in LA tonight.  The Giants record on my birthday is, at least as memory serves, poor.  I don't recall any wins, in fact, just losses, even when not yet the regular season.

The only thing I know is that a loss tonight will not be Bochy's fault.  It will still be early in the season.  It will only have been two games.  Yada.  Yada.  Yada.  I can hear (er, read) them already.