Perfect Choices

This morning I found Bella standing in the center of the cat litter box as if it were an unopened box of See's candy she'd discovered under the Christmas tree, an epiphany. Thank goodness the cat box was clean -- just changed the litter last night though Bella still managed to find a tiny tidbit and held fast to the treat tightly in her jaws when I tried to get encourage her in a most gentle manner to spit it out. Eventually the tidbit found it's way onto my fingers, all moist and meaty.  


Later I tried to eat an egg for breakfast per Dr. Crabby's orders and felt nauseous so I gave the egg to the dog. Regardless off the poo saga, I still love this dog, and it's been such a short time to feel this kind of love for a creature. Plus we didn't even meet online!

This pet ownership is a real learning curve for us. Don't eat poo and I won't keep writing about you eating poo. Don't be gross. Just be sweet and loving just when I urge you carefully out of your warm crate at 2 am to go outside to pee. Lick my face sweetly in those moments with your daylight, poo-lapping tongue.

On a whim I performed a quickie search using basic search criteria "why are dogs so gross?" and the first answer that came up offered by Yahoo Answers offered clues and excuses, apropos. Voted the best answer was "Same thing as people running through the local McDonald's..why the hell you would eat that cr*p is beyond me."


Perhaps dogs being gross makes some sense. I'll begrudgingly try to be less critical of her choices until my own food choices reach perfection. 

Garden of Eatin

I've been bringing Bella to work and she's killing me. I'm so thankful to work with family because anyone else would have fired me by now.


I take Bella out periodically during the day though occasionally I missed those "periodicals." I brought into work my bottle of Nature's Miracle. I need to spray NM all over the carpeting at work, then freeze the floor like an ice skating rink so that when Bella pees, her pee will instantly freeze into ice.


I took Bella for a quick walk before work this morning. First thing she found was a a small, stinking carcass in two parts. It was mostly hair, like a pelt. I got the first part of hair out of her mouth, then she ran after the second part. I got that out and stuck it in my brother in laws car wash bucket so she couldnt' keep after it - and he won't know the difference when he's washing the car.  After I wrestled the second part of the hairy carcass out of her jaws, we walked further out into the garden. Then Bella found some deer poop hors d'oeuvres for a quick snack. There are several deer poop hors d'oeuvres areas around my sister's yard. She spends thousands of dollars on deer resistant plants to ensure a huge population of deer and deer poop. Bella immediately popped one poop in her mouth. I wrestled it out, smushed between my fingers.


I went to my post-op appointment -- post-op from WLS. The doc said I have not lost enough weight even if it's more weight than I've lost in the last 3 years combined, and told me I have to lose 20 lbs this next month. I was feeling pretty good about the loss so far which he had at 24 lbs because he subtracted incorrectly and I have at 32 lbs because I added in the water they gave me during surgery. So unofficially, I've lost 27 lbs but he does not know this. He asked me if he was right with his subtraction? I didn't question him. He's the doctor. I can hardly count on my fingers. I bow to authority even if their math skills sucks wads. This must be why surgeons always have so many people in the operating room with them. As math backups. Someone has to count all those Dorsey dissectors and 10-mm Weck Hem-o-lok clips - I'm here to tell you, it's not my doctor doing the counting.


Now it's protein and more protein in the form of meat and  protein drinks. The doctor said to aim for 80 grams of protein a day. He was angry (sort of) that I had been reading blogs and other books on WLS because he said, "Those people did not do surgery on you!" So all the WLS folks eating beans and peanuts and peanut butter and other things that seem to be okay, don't make an appointment with my doctor and you'll do just fine.


The appointment was interesting. Before going in to see the doctor, I was proud of what I'd accomplished in a short time. I'm getting thinner and healthier - I can cart my bod back and forth up the hill at home without too much screaming. I'm wearing smaller clothing (perhaps I should NOT be!?) and very happy I chose surgery. No regrets. 


Part of the weight loss issue is when a person is overweight, a person sometimes gets to this place in their head where they think they can not lose anymore weight -- guess that's called a plateau. Maybe I was worried that I had plateaued already post-surgery. Though that's just ridiculous -- as ridiculous as wrestling deer poop hors d'oeuvres out of a little puppy's mouth when all you wanted to do was take a morning stroll through a beautiful garden.

Head ‘em Up, Move ‘em Out

Why didn't anyone tell me that puppies are so much work? I mean, come on you guys knew I wanted a puppy for at least a year now. Could someone have warned me that once I have a puppy I won't be allowed to wallow any longer? Not in front of the TV, in front of book or even on the toidy?

I left work at 5 p.m. yesterday driving to pick up a measly little (life-saving!) prescription at the Safeway on 41st and did not get home due to traffic until just before 7 p.m. By the time I arrived home I was starving -- could hardly slurp down a half cup of soup! Bella was starving too though she has her priorities (whatever's in front of her face at any given second) -- she needed to take at least two more walks before bedtime. Plus she had to pick a fight with the metal rake I was using to rake up assorted forest fluff in front of the fence along the road. Bella yelped charged and snarled at the rake. I'll never have to sweep, vacuum, or rake again. Deal!

She wants to hurt herd everything, people, rakes. People are tempted to take off their shoes and let her play with their shoes but then she skips the shoes and goes right for their toes with a vengeance. I may change her name to Vampira. That name suits her much more than Bella.

I had to teach Hannah not to run away screaming when Bella runs after her to attack and starts to bite. I told her "Bella thinks we're cows! Stand still!" (moo) I picked Hannah up from school yesterday, and while climbing into the vertical hotrod, Hannah exclaimed "I'll bet Bella misses me!" I said, "Yes, you, and the smelly contents of any litterbox."

I had forgotten this one thing about dogs  -- they love gross, smelly, disgusting things. Bad smelly things. Dirty clothes, diapers (not mine (yet), anyone's), poop, peep. Dogs will eat other animal poop. Bella spent 10 minutes scraping a dried body part from a hit and run lizard out of the center of the road. She licked at this lizard pancake, snarled at it. You would have thought she'd discovered truffles. Alas, it was only lizard leather.

I owned two dogs in the past both of whom/which I killed (just like I killed my cat with diabetes). One day my dogs ran off into the forest. I couldn't catch them - didn't even bother. My only hope (sort of) was that they'd return some day for a dog biscuit. And they returned in an hour or so bringing with them a ten pound deer leg replete with maggots, flies, tufts of fur, sinews and other assorted forest crud and creatures. They came into the house through the dog door carrying the leg like a trophy. They were sitting in the front room with the bloody, stinky leg splayed out on the carpeting, gnawing at the pieces. According to them, the only sad thing about the deer leg was that it had not be dipped in month old, tossed-by-the-roadside baby diaper gravy first.

I guess I have to start using a real clothing hamper instead of my bedroom floor" hamper." I can't leave anything laying around. I have to find a way to be cleaner, neater, less hoarder-ey. Cleanliness wasn't in my plan. I always thought of myself as a hoarder without much stuff though I'm told it's not actually hoarding to keep piles of dust. All my dust rhinos look as if they should be piled among books, old blankets and trinkets from past lives but so much of the stuff has gone yet the dust remains.

I keep thinking that through all the trial and tribulations -- the deaths, cancer, horror, mayhem, terrible floods, horrid landslides,  -- I'm not gonna let this puny little dog be the boss A me. She may bleed me to death, try to herd me into a beehive. She may bite through my clothing, piercing my left nipple which happened just yesterday though I'm making lemonade out of lemons and having the right nipple pierced later today so they match. Come hell or high water, I'm going to train this puppy to quit making me work so hard. Me and my herd of dust rhinos are in need of a long nap.

Belle of the Ball

Bella is a tri-color Pembroke Welsh Corgi. I picked her up last Friday night. This all happened very suddenly though I've wanted a corgi for some time. l've been busy ever since. I'm exhausted. I have to walk her several times a day. I'm getting exercise I didn't want. Who's idea was this puppy anyway?

Hannah loves the puppy (as you might imagine). She walked her on the beach and says "Bella, I'm running!" in an attempt to get Bella to follow her. Hannah likes to carry Bella all the time. She thinks that Bella needs to be held. I hope Bella lives through all of this excitement.

Corgis have herding tendencies which would explain the bite marks on my hooves. However, bite marks on my hooves are not a good thing for the lymphedema in my legs - can cause cellulitis infections but with the increase in exercise and the continued weight-loss, my immune system is gearing up for any kind of fight - dammit. Still, I'd like to put most of my battles behind me. Down 31 lbs today.

I didn't realize it but having a very cute puppy is like having breast enlargements. People look at you and they look at your puppy (breasts) and they think "Oh, how cute that puppy is!" (Oh, how big her breasts are!") and they come up to you and ask if they can pet your breasts puppy. My advice is to stick with a puppy - especially one who has a hurting herding tendency.

According to a book entitled The Intelligence of Dogs, I read that the PWC are very smart dogs. This dog is smarter than
me already. Why do I have to pay the vet bill? Oh, yeah -- it's because the dog is smarter than me.











These two dog noses, I left behind at the place where I picked up Bella though I could not resist taking their picture.

Along the Path

It's too hot to eat today. I brought two tubes of whey protein to work with me. Both contain 25 grams of protein. So far the tubes with less protein taste far better than the tubes with more protein. I wonder why? One of today's tubes is Profect  fresh citrus berry. What kind of berry is a fresh citrus berry? The other tube is New Whey acai berry. I know all about acai berries. They are an antioxidant that kill cancer cells (just kidding!) I'll save that tube for later today. I've done enough gagging for one morning.

Baglady asked if my blog is now a weight-loss blog and I gotta say nope. It's a see-how-long-it-takes-to-drink-one-of-these-protein-tubes blog. I try to consume the tube in the time it takes to write a blog post.

A slightly interesting side note on the protein in the tubes -- if you spill it, let's say on top of your desk, it will dry to a thick coating of shellac. You could submerge a layer of coins or other treasures before the shellac dries, perhaps feathers or flower petals; make a pretty design and add more flair to your already flair-filled office accoutrements. (I'm thinking of shellacking something of my sister's when she's not in the office, a cell phone or keys.) It's kind of scary to imagine what this protein shellac might be doing to my insides, other than encouraging me to healthierslimville. Do you suppose the protein shellac is any different than any previously consumed ice cream shellac or the loads of HFCS shellac? How about all the shellac in a can of cola or better yet, a product I actually ate once that really had shellac in the ingredients list along with ethanol. I through the remaining product away asap. Shellac is also known as beetlejuice (and "confectioner's glaze") because it contains insects. Yummy! Now we're talking like we actually live inside my house with sneaky skunks and scorpions.

Went for my lung x-ray this morning. The technician had to retake the x-ray saying they did not get the entire right lung. My right lung has a thing on it that but they can't quite decide what the thing is. The lung thing stays the same in each x-ray, sort of like a dinosaur tooth. I don't know what the CATscan ever said about the lung dinosaur tooth. But when the technician sees it, I think they retake the x-ray as a matter of course because they see something and they're not quite sure about it and they don't want the radiologist screaming at them. They don't want to say anything to me to frighten me though I feel I'm on to their don't-scare-the-patient schtick so I pretty much just go through the motions like a cow to slaughter.

I am picking Hannah up from her school this afternoon. I'm going to take her to pick out (and hopefully eat) a frozen yogurt as baksheesh while I torment her with my camera. Maybe I'll drink my second tube of shellac and we can celebrate one month since surgery and 27 lbs healthier.

Mystery Meal

I took a photo of my breakfast today. I was actually hungry which does not happen very often (I love not having that "hunger"), warmed up what remained of a bowl of oatmeal that I'd mixed with Nectar unflavored protein and a squirt of Torani brown sugar/cinnamon sugar-free syrup. Nectar can also be used in tube feeding applications. I hope I don't get to that point. I thought the oats looked a bit like tripemeal once I reheated the mush. Had a crazy looking texture.

I'm going to consume the second tube of New Whey at some point in my day. This was one of the treats in the gift-box. Today's flavor is orange. You can't beat 42 grams of protein especially when an egg (that would fill up my stomach/pouch is approximately 6 grams of protein). I'd have to wait several hours to eat again, post-egg meal.

There are so many rules with WLS -- it's kind of interesting and more than a bit amusing to someone who's dieted, measured, weighed, counted, manipulated food for years. We have to consume lots of vitamins and supplements which I don't mind except I want a decent chewable calcium citrate I only have to chew once or twice per day (1000 mg max). If you have any ideas, let me know.

I find myself driving home after work, wondering what I can make for dinner. It's not worth the effort to stop at a store because I eat such a small amount that a half cup of oatmeal or cream of wheat with protein mixed into it will suffice. Half a yogurt, one egg or a half cup of yogurt mixed with oatmeal. Afterward I eat I'm full which is so novel. I don't think about the food I used to think about at night though sometimes I find myself thinking about popcorn - you know as a snack?

Right now I appreciate not having food options and I never thought I'd admit that in this lifetime.

No Whey!

I got a gift from two blogger buddies yesterday when I arrived home from work. A box full of treats! Yay treats - Yay me. One of the treats was a tube of New Whey Blue Raspberry dietary supplement. I'm trying to drink this supplement as I write, and in between gagging, I seem to be doing okay. Thanks so much to Anne who writes at Smaller Fun Pants and her buddy, Audra who blogs at Scribbling in the Margin. What a great treat! They sent me assorted teas, cocoa and lots of protein things with which I had not been introduced. And the flavor blue raspberry brought back memories of sno-cones and the boardwalk (except while I was drinking it, I was reminded of the smell of porta-potties.) They also sent CDs with medication meditations and peaceful ocean wave music.  I'm set for sure -- most especially if I ever have more weight loss surgery, however, I'm still finding I have to force myself to get in the proper amount of protein on a daily basis. I believe you can lose more weight or faster if you actually follow the doctors orders. Novel idea, I know.

I went to the oncologist this morning. The good news is my blood pressure (which has never been high except during pregnancy) was 111/62. I've lost 25 lbs since the surgery date. My oncologist said the weight loss will really cut the cancer risk. He also said the "thing on [my] lung is probably part of my anatomy" as opposed to a pitchfork or other odd surgical implement. I have orders for another chest x-ray but will do get to that later this week. My platelets are back in the normal range. Pre-surgery they were high at 530, and today 342. He said my platelets have always been wacky.

The not the greatest news was that the CA 125 (cancer antigen) was higher than it's ever been - even out of the range of normal. I didn't panic when he told me that it was 74. He said he believes it's elevated from the recent surgery though there can be other reasons for the higher number. I hope he's right. I'll do another set of labs in a month and go see him for the news then. Hopefully the CA will have returned to normal range. If not, we'll have to do a CAT-scan - and believe me, you'll hear about this crap as it's coming down. If the CA is within normal range, I'll wait to do a CAT-scan in December. This means I've graduated to one CAT-scan a year which is good news.

I told my son that if I were to get the big "you're gonna croak soon" notice, I would keep my sense of humor. Most people say the last thing to go when a person is dying is their hearing. But on me, I predict the last thing to go will be my funny bone, and then my ability to hear (and fart). On the other hand, if I have to suffer, I'm bringing everyone down with me because I'm not doing this alone. Rest assured, I am really good at magical thinking. The good news is with the weight loss, I'll fit in a normal size coffin. I'm planning on being around for a helluva long time so I'm aiming for a tissue box-sized coffin. In fact, I may start working on a prototype.

I just finished drinking the entire contents of the tube of whey protein. I hope you're as proud of me as I am. It's 12:26 pm and I've hit today's protein goal with this product. That is very cool - too bad it's the texture of mucus and tastes like something I would have really enjoyed if I were two years old again. If ice cream, candy and chip companies made their products taste like whey protein, the obesity crisis would end. And if the obesity crisis ended, there'd be far fewer incidents of cancer in this world. Mark my word. Find a whey.

Wild Pigs & Birthday Greetings

Image courtesy of LA Times Blogs.


I nearly killed an entire family of wild pigs on Saturday morning. It was thrilling. Not to almost kill them but to have them dashing out in front of my car, the mom, and all 6000 of her babies, one of whom nearly lost it's life under my meal wheel. I guess there were about 8 babies, all the size of a nice pork roast. The mom would have put my vertical hotrod in the shop though. The brakes work well. Maybe the car would have been totaled by Mom Wild Pig's massive girth, and I would have been eaten alive by wild piglets. Talk about karma.

At least these animals weren't in my house (for once). Wild pigs are very skittish -- they don't stand still for the camera.

I have poison oak. I wrote a blurb a few weeks ago about minimum hugs for well-being. I don't get many hugs unless I force my neighbors and weirdos from the resort up the road to hug me. I could stand in an intersection with a cardboard sign -- that would probably work to get more hugs, though I could see myself getting all uppity if someone filthy or dirty or nasty or grungy or disgusting or tacky or penniless or good-for-nothing or my X, or really just about anyone jump out of their vehicle to offer me a hug. What if I had to pay? I'd be considered aloof.Then I'd lose my place at the intersection to a real person in need, someone with money or job issues. I'd probably get fewer hugs than I do now.

About a week ago, Eric came over and did some much needed weed-whacking for me. Upon his departure, I got a few hugs. He knows the rules. I have to have the hugs. He reluctantly gave me a few hugs, warning me in advance about the poison oak oils on his weed-whacked stained clothing. Now I have poison oak. I found a bump on my back and thinking it was tick or a zit, I zapped it. Uh, not a good idea, tick or zit, though especially not poison oak. I have poison oak in about a dozen spots now. All this for a hug. Fun!

Thirty two years ago yesterday, I spent my day in labor. At the end of that day, I gave birth to twin boys who weighed too much, 14 lbs., 9 oz (I wonder who they took after?) Once again reluctantly, Eric had to spend time in order for me to pretend to celebrate his birthday. I took two birthday cards, one from his grandmother and one from the homeowners insurance sales person. I also gave Eric a Peet's coffee card. That was a last minute gift - I wasn't planning on buying him anything. What do you buy people who need nothing? I sent a card to my son in Hawaii and put all cash I had in my wallet ($7.00) inside the card along with some photos of me when I was fatter.

We went for Cambodian food at Jia Tellas. I sat there, annoying him with my attempts at conversation, watching him eat though I had a few small bites of chicken. Yum! Opening his birthday cards, Eric was annoyed because one card actually had the nerve to have glitter on it. Eric said, "I hate glitter." By the end of the meal, I had both cards back in my purse to take home for the recycle bin though at my car door, I got four hugs, my minimum daily requirement plus several photos. Eric may not like birthday celebrations much, and he maybe a glitterhater but he's not as skittish as a wild pig.

Life Goes On

I went to the hospital to get lab-work in preparation for my oncologist appointment on Tuesday. This is lab-work that is used as one of the tools to guess if I have cancer. This checking for cancer is an ongoing process once you have been diagnosed. I'm thankful they still care though as a patient, I suppose I could make the choice to stop going though I'm not into not knowing. I like keeping tabs on my health. The blood test will check the cancer antigen levels and usually the CA level is elevated with ovarian though it's non-specific for uterine cancer. CA 125 is a tumor marker not to be confused with a permanent marker. Since my diagnosis, the CA-125 has remained within normal levels. After I see the doctor, he'll order scans, CT, chest x-ray and then I'm hoping a clean bill of health for months at minimum, for life perhaps?

In the lab there was an older woman at the counter ahead of me. I overheard her confirm her birth date, 3/11/31 which meant she was 25 years and two days older than me. In other words, ancient. She was tiny and crinkled, old and slow. She probably weighed as much as my arm; easily a third my size. White hair, cardigan over her housecoat. I look forward to reaching that age though I'm not keeping my fingers crossed. (Too much exercise). But good gawd gertie, I hope I don't shrink that much as I age. No one will recognize me. My dreams of ending it all in an enormous Costco coffin will be out the window.

I used to have the what-kind-of-funeral, funeral music, food choices, where it will be held, and coffin buying discussions with my friend, Kathy whom I met in chemo. We'd laugh like hell (eww, good choice of words). I have several older blogposts that include snippets of our conversations though one thing Kathy taught me I've never forgotten. She said the best revenge against cancer is to live your life. She is so right. After all, I'm not dead yet so I dislike wasting precious time crying about the inevitable. Kathy and I set goals together. Some of her goals were good -- to see all of the Harry Potter movies, then she had a goal to see her granddaughter, while my biggest goal to date was to be able to shop at senior Tuesdays at Ross. I need a new goal cuz I think I hit that one at age 53, last year.  Kathy died of ovarian cancer on July 1st. She got to spend this past (almost a whole) year with her baby granddaughter, named Hannah, who was born last August. I will miss Kathy's fantasticly dark sense of humor and her gracious wisdom. Through her wisdom I gained a new lease on life.

The WLS has been going well. I have no regrets. I'm only a bit over 3 weeks post surgery. I've been fluctuating up and down a couple pounds. From 22-24 back to 23 to 25 total lost. My post-op appointment is July 28th. My sister said the doctor will probably yell at me regardless of what I lost or didn't lose. She has the same doctor.

When I first met this doctor, he had a waiting room full of self-pay, lap-band patients, many of whom had done really well with their surgery, and one in particular who'd gained all her weight back (he said) and was there to ask for drastic bypass surgery which she would also have to pay out of pocket for - must be nice to be wealthy. The doctor flat out told me the reason she gained all her weight back was because "sat around and ate bonbons and ice cream." I guess you could say he's on to our tricks. I've not had any bonbons or ice cream since surgery. I have no desire. I love having this freedom, being able to feel this total lack of desire though I thought those feelings were pretty universal with the onset of menopause.

Both this license plate and I were "born" the same year in California and by comparison, I think I'm holding  well though I may have a few more wrinkles and my IQ is not that high.

Strangers in the Night

I had a tough time falling asleep Friday night. I didn't go to bed until around 11 p.m. I kept hearing strange noises. I got out of bed to see what was the matter because up on the roof there arose such a clatter. 

In the bathroom I found an unfamiliar smudge on the wall. Don't ask me why I checked the bathroom first. I had to find my glasses to identify the smudge. Because I am the only smudgee in the house, I was momentarily horrified. The smudge turned out to be an enormous baby scorpion. I took a photo though I'm too humiliated to post the picture. I really need to wash my bathroom walls -- I used to have a house full of males, all gone away in one form or the other.  Let's just say if there's a village somewhere looking for it's pubic hair, I think I found it.


After I killed the baby scorpion using a can of WD40, (so much for being a buddhist) (don't know why I had to kill this scorpion when it was so obvious from the autopsy photos that it had made a pube-noose in order to hang itself ) there was still something in my house making noise. I got out of bed once again to check the source. A small container of recyclables had been knocked askew/askance by this mystery guest. I picked up the recyclables and went back to bed. Not quite sure what my thinking was on my reaction to the recyclable tip-over. I guess because I didn't see a brahma bull standing in my kitchen,I figured I was safe. 

I awoke a few minutes later because something was making chewing noises in my bedroom and I could tell from the crunching noises that this was not my cat, Luka. She is a demure muncher. I turned on my bedroom light and saw an enormous baby skunk eating Luka's crunchies. 

Perhaps you're wondering why I have cat-food crunchies in my bedroom. Well, you never asked me about the chocolate wrappers or pizza boxes. Why do you care about a small bowl of cat crunchies? I moved the cat-food into my room to keep it safe from the raccoons which so far, has worked. Raccoons are very sneaky. Maybe they have entered my inner sanctum and I've slept through their comings and goings which is fine by me. But an enormous baby skunk is not quiet. He's eating like he's first in line at the shelter; like it's Thanksgiving and he brought the stuffing with extra butter.

I said, "Uh, please leave" or something to that effect, and he turned his ass around, raised his tail in threat and walked down the hall to the cat door. Thank gawd he remembered where that door was! Relief though...he did not spray or maybe was not old enough to spray except I just did some research and found out they only have to be 8 days old to spray. He looked at least 8 days old. Anyway, no skunk stench worse than usual stench in my bedroom for the time being. If he had sprayed I would have had to hire one of those companies that cleans up after a murder.