an entry is on my list

i have been neglectful of many things of late. this diary is one of them.

i’ve had 2 really good conversations with my cousin ramona, since aunt doris died.  that has been nice.  i’ve noticed that pattern with berieved family members….. they come away from a death of a loved one with high hopes of staying in touch because they have shared this specific pain of losing the relationship they had with the dead person.  these two people have something in common with each other now.

our little dog is changing everyday.  on saturday, dustin took her to the vet for her second go-round of shots.  she weighed 3.75 pounds.  now she weighs 5.5 pounds. 
she knows:
go get it.  only with a specific "stick"  it’s an angry-birds chew toy….. i will have to replace this one soon.  she is gnawing through the seams.  she will look at you and wait till you ask, "do you want to go get it?"—- "go get it!" and toss the toy to the other end of the kitchen.
she runs pell-mell after it and skids into it most of the time.  she grabs it up in the middle and runs as hard as she can back to where you are.
right now, we are working on "drop-it."
blanca wants to play rrrarh with it…… i hold it tight and she tries to yank it and shake it and tear it out of my hand.  probably what is wrong with the seams…… and she loves it, no matter what it is if it has a squeeker in it.  she frys keith’s brain with that one.  i can tune it out.

she is getting better with the potty thing.  she is not goint to the pet door on a regular basis, but she is gaining ground.  puppy pads seem to indimidate her.  i may have scared her with them.

meep and frannie will go to the sleeping dog and smell her all over.  they do not seem too keen about it when they touch her.  tigger has let her find out that he can’t really hurt her, so she is beginning to use this to her advantage.  she is not much afraid of him anymore.

our refrigerator died this weekend.  on friday the 13th of course.  i say our fridge, like it’s mine.  my lanlord has this stupid policy on the machines in the house.  it’s not a stupid policy, i just don’t like working with the waiting part of it…… i am the one at home listening to keith whimper and whine while sears is going to get around to calling me back when my name comes up to the next one on the list.

i became ill (for lack of a better word) right around the same time that my aunt doris died.  i noticed that i was getting shorter of breath than i normally do.  i also noticed that i was retaining some fluid around my feet and lower legs.  especially on the left.
i gained 12 or 13 pounds of water weight in 2 days….. so last thursday, i called my pulmonologist to see if i could come in the next day.  keith was going to take a wellness day so he could take me to victory lakes, on the mainland, where the clinic is located.
i was waiting for the nurse to call me back and my doc called instead.
he wanted me to go into the hospital and i did an amy-winehouse on him and i said no, no, no……  i told him i’d make a deal.  if he could look at me, and thought i needed to go, then i would go.
he agreed with me the next day that we could do this at home.  i have some more tests to do…. but the chest xray is clear, no disease shows up and my lungs are clear(no tumors or spots either)(fucking yay!)  he asked me to do a ct scan for more study.  i’ll do that next week.  and he asked me to do another blood-gas test……………………… i hate that.
the last blood gas that was done, was done incorrectly.  it was supposed to be on 02 air.  the tech took me off oxygen to run the test.  we already know i need oxygen.  so all she did was prove, that yep, i still need oxygen.

the problem is carbon dioxide levels.  he thinks MAYBE that because my oxygen saturation numbers fall so much at night, combined with the nature of the disease, (not getting the co2 off your lungs) is causing me to retain the fluids, which in turn makes me very short of breath.

our normal number is around 96 to 100 oxygen sats.  when i would go from my bedside to the kitchen to sit down, gasping in a chair, my sats would be sitting at 70.  or 75.  once they dipped down into the high sixties.  and it hurts for some damned reason….

so we will figure out what can best be done.

i am grateful i don’t have anything showing up on my lung.  i am happy about that chest xray.

i like my dog.  she is a source of joy and affecftion.  i am grateful keith let me have her.

good doctors.  i am grateful that my pulmonary guy goes out of his way for me.  he might be a keeper.

i found a steam-punk-spider for my friend oulin! 

the rest of these are of this little yappy dog that lives here.