Privilege and You

I am about to become very unpopular. But I feel compelled to allow my thoughts to flow cathartically onto the page. I've made no mistake on how I perceive the August 8th shooting of Mike Brown in Ferguson, MO.  After researching the evidence, and researching police officer protocols and statistics, and finally putting myself in both Brown and Wilson's shoes, I fully believe that officer Wilson acted in self defense. This, I've said time and again. It is not new.

What has been nagging at me, however, is the blowback. The vehement and prolonged protests, riots, and violent demonstrations all in the name of Justice or Peace or Black Lives Matter. White people becoming enraged at other white people, black people dredging up how they've been done wrong forever and white people need to check their privilege.  Buzzfeed videos on how people are racist without even knowing it have popped up. "Dear White People" came out and basically tells people of pale complexion that they Have No Clue. Memes and vines and tweets about how white people keep black people down, and all black people want is equality.

I've noticed a trend. Some black people like Morgan Freeman and Charles Barkley are ashamed of the black population. Because the reaction to a man being shot in self defense is being touted as a civil rights issue, and not a self defense issue. The protesters don't have any ties to actually wanting Justice, they seem to want a Political Agenda and Revenge.   And some black people like liberal extremists Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson promote those protests. Because it further separates the races.  And if anyone is a racist, it is Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson. That's based on the actual definition of racism, not the White-Blaming definition going around lately.

I am a typical middle class white girl. I grew up in a middle class white neighborhood, with middle-class white  mostly Mormon neighbors. I don't remember having more than a few kids of color in my schools until high school, and most of my teachers were white. Now, because I'm a mess with faces, I could be remembering it wrong, and maybe there were more people of color than I remember, but that's beside the point. The point is, I am not biased on skin color.

Now, right now I think I'm hearing groans and moans about how I'm immediately not credible because NOBODY is colorblind. But I didn't even recognize my white husband in a crowd till we'd been together about five years. And that's a guy I saw every day. And after my experiment this past weekend, I realized that it's true. I went to my swanky, middle class Wal-Mart to do some shopping, and decided that I was going to make a mental note of the ethnicities I saw. I was going to make a conscious effort to notice skin color. I encountered about 75 people, in the two hours I was there, and I was the only white person. Did this revelation scare me?  Nope. Plenty of people are in the minority at some time or another.

So I redid the experiment. This time, since I was sick, it was a trip to the doctor's office. My son was with me, and we went to McDonald's first. I didn't encounter a single other white person. Not at McDonald's, or the doctor's office, nor the pharmacy. And I needed x-rays and both prescription and OTC meds. Today, I went to the grocery store, the post office, Kinkos, and Chipotle. I smiled at or otherwise made contact with easily 50 people. Three were white.

So, where I live, I'm in the minority. And that's ok. Because I believe that People is People is People. Skin color doesn't explain what's going on inside.

So if a middle class white girl isn't afraid to be in the minority, why would anyone else?  I mean, I hear people say that white people cross the street to avoid black males. Well, as a female, if more than one male of any color was walking toward me, I'd cross the street. Because I'm a female, and I don't entirely trust strange men. I'm not a small female - I like to say that I'm not portable - but two or more men could do some serious harm to me. And although I know most men wouldn't ever hurt a woman, I still need to be wary just in case those particular males would.  We all know how rape cases are currently treated, and I'd rather not be a statistic because I wanted to show someone I don't even know that I'm not a racist.

A common allegory I've read lately is a class all gets to throw a piece of paper, crumpled, at a trash can at the front of the class. This is supposed to show privilege. Specifically, according to the story, White Privilege. I couldn't agree less. I believe it is referencing Class Privilege. Black people don't have the monopoly on being looked upon as Less Than. Yes, they've had issues in former generations, but this is about where I become very, very unpopular.

Black people bring racism upon themselves. It is a residual knee-jerk reaction to the way they've been treated in former generations. Bear with me, please.  And understand that, despite the way black people *used* to be treated, there is absolutely no reason to be such jerks about it now.

The black kids of today have never been slaves. Their grandparents haven't been slaves. Their grandparents and parents have even been able to vote and live in unsegregated areas. The world is moving forward and providing equality for everyone, barring some truly jerk-wad ass-wranglers who retain backwards thinking. Affirmative Action has made sure that a certain percentage of 'minorities' are accepted into colleges and workplaces....but to be honest, I'm not sure Affirmative Action is necessary anymore. These kids and adults are living in a world where people largely don't care about race and they're accepted to the school/place of business based on their skills and merits and not handouts.  And yet....there is still black-on-black crime. Black-on-white crime. And white-on-black crime. I think it's time to just call it 'crime', but whatever. I've been told there's a major case of racism in the USA.

Racism is essentially one race trying to be superior to all others. To be a racist, One is supposed to believe that their randomly chosen race is somehow better than others. Kinda like how the Sioux felt about the Pawnee. Or the white folk of yesteryear felt about black folk. But we all know better now. We have people of color in all walks of life. CEOs, the President of the USA, and McDonald's. The USA is this big melting pot of acceptance for the most part. Yeah, there's the KKK....but they represent all white people like Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton et al represent all black people. It's a mangled, extreme, and toxic version of a totally normal race of people. And there's this saying.....'everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind always.'. We all have to deal with discrimination in this world. Why do black people seem to insist that their plight is worse than others?  Try being disabled/differently abledin this world. Especially if your disability is invisible to the layperson.

Now, of all my black friends, none have dealt with discrimination from me or anyone I know. I have no doubt some scumbags are jerks to them now and again, but this is 2014. They can walk away or even call the cops to report harassment. I deal with discrimination frequently too, as a female of size (That means I'm fat).  I've been spat upon, barked at, shoved, and called names in public. Does my experience with discrimination not matter because I'm white?  It sure hurts a lot. Hurts even more when I'm told I'm not allowed to hurt because I'm privileged.

So here's why I believe that the vociferous black community brings racism upon themselves......they don't respect themselves, and they're just passing along the hate their relatives passed on.

Just a few generations ago, black people had to fight tooth and nail for everything. So the grandparents raised the parents to be wary of white people. As the white people were growing away from discriminating against people of color, the people of color retained their protective walls. And passed them down to their kids.  Anger is a cruel mistress. Hate takes people prisoner. And those espousing anger and hate don't want to take responsibility for their anger and hate....so they pass blame.

Police officers aren't more prone to being racially biased the vast majority of the time (there was a study done with cops and civilians and response times and colors of suspects......I'll have to find it again). However, the people of color that are so loudly screaming racism are taught from birth not to trust white people OR authority, and so the people of color behave differently to the cops than white people do. That causes more strife and causes more arrests of people of color than of white people.

I have a FB friend who is getting her degrees in law and she specifically studies racial discrimination cases. She can spout statistics day and night about how black people are more likely to get arrested, shot, or killed by cops. But I, as a hyperempathetic person who is a huge advocate for assessing individual situations, believe that the correlation between those stats has nothing to do with racial bias and everything to do with a suspect's behavior and the officer's interpretation of the suspect's intent.

There is no way that any two people will behave exactly the same way in the same basic circumstances. Or even that the same two people react the same way every time. As humans, we are in and of ourselves about a bajillion variables all working in contest with each other.  right about here is where the Ian Malcolm chaos theory from Jurassic Park comes to mind.  The way we drive our car depends on our mood, how much sleep we've gotten, whether we feel attractive that day, whether or not the kids are in the car, whether we are headed to work or home or the bar......And let's say a cop pulls you over. Someone like me, who has not been trained to fear the police, will be quiet unless spoken to, answer all questions with yes sir or no sir, and keep our hands in sight at all times. Someone whose parents have instilled a mistrust of the law would likely not do such things. And the difference in behavior is what will get that person arrested and not me.  That has nothing to do with White Privilege and everything to do with themselves.

So my thoughts are clear. Morgan Freeman hates black history month and racism speak because it's only an issue if you make it one. Charles Barkley says that black people make it hard for themselves. And you know what the black community says about black people that actually believe in equality and not bitching about being black?  They're called brainwashed. They're told that they're 'too white'. That they have betrayed their own race.

Think on that a minute. A race of people who disown and slander people of their own race for acting and behaving as equals of another race. Who is racist now? 

(Being proud of who you are and where you've come from is fine.  Encouraged, even. But stepping on others and putting them down so you feel good about yourself?  For shame.....)

interviews!

my shift button isn't working well at all, so this post will be devoid of as many capital letters as i can manage to avoid.

it's true.  i started out as an EMT.

now that the man is back stateside, i have been hankering to go back to work.  badly.  my fingers are itching to feel the bounce of a vein beneath them; the slide of a catheter into the vein.  my mind yearns for the satisfaction of a successful blood draw the first try.  advance with a purpose, and don't ever stab the vein.  use a little alcohol beforehand to de-grease the fur/skin  and provide a measure of aseptic technique.  feel the gush of motion under the fingertips when the catheter is flushed and well seated.  cuddle cats and dogs that aren't my own, too.

so last week i delivered my resume to 4 emergency clinics in the north houston area.  i printed them out on heavy, fancy business quality paper.  it had a watermark, it was so fancy.  i used a pink binder clip to attach the cover letter to the two-page resume, as a paper clip would potentially get lost, and i wanted my resume to stand out from all the others.  (here's a hint, kids....your first impression with a career or job is going to be your resume....make it memorable and impressive!)

now, because of a combination of luck and wise choices, i have had the privilege of working with some of the best veterinarians in the locale i have inhabited.  dr gaynor in colorado springs has written and co-written numerous veterinary books and chapters involving pain management and anesthesia.  in fact, i have not yet worked for a vet clinic that didn't have at least one chapter or book written by dr gaynor.  not only that, but dr gaynor made sure that his technicians and doctors were well-versed in everything.  he and his staff conducted monthly continuing education at the staff meetings, and we all were proficient in cpcr for animals.  we even had wet labs wherein we technicians learned how to do doctor-level skills like placing thoracic tubes.  after working for dr gaynor, i moved to houston where i found the most skilled emergency clinic at the time, run by dr mccauley.  she ran a tight ship and insisted on the best quality of medicine i could find in the entire houston area.  she would also begin to have monthly continuing education at staff meetings, and i was able to use my skills garnered from my years with dr gaynor to teach some of my coworkers about perianesthetic conditions that all vet techs should know.  dr mccauley also made her technicians become proficient in knowing exactly what the doctor needed for each potential emergency, and would time us on our care-plan-creating ability.  this helped me learn how to quickly access all information and perform rapid, but accurate, calculations.  when dr mccauley let me go, due to pneumonia, i might add, i was rapidly scooped up by the doctors at north houston vet specialists.  it was there that i was introduced to my absolute favorite internal medicine doctors, dr stone and dr willey, and the amazing surgeons that nhvs had to offer, dr payne and dr hinton.  the quality of medicine at nhvs was akin to what i had experienced in colorado with dr gaynor, which was a great relief to me.  you see, dr gaynor's quality of medicine was years and years ahead of any ER in the houston area, even dr mccauley (though she aspired to the same greatness, the community was dragging its feet).  i

blossomed with dr stone and dr willey, and became proficient in all aspects of internal medicine.  i learned how to administer chemo, how to calculate constant rate infusions without the use of a computer, and how to provide the ultimate care for my clients and patients.  the internal med doctors at nhvs are sticklers for perfection, and somehow they thought i done good.  i was even enlisted to train other technicians in the practice, including internal medicine, surgery, and patient care technicians, how to do certain more-advanced procedures like placing a central line.  then nhvs brought in a criticalist and i was able to have daily nerdgasms.  dr johnnides, the criticalist, was performing medicine equivalent to my years with dr gaynor.  i finally had a doctor in houston that i could bond with on that level.  i wasn't the only one pushing for a specific type of medicine that seemed just out of reach, especially since i am a nurse, not a doctor.  leaving nhvs when the man went overseas nearly killed me.  i went into a massive depression spiral and veterinary medicine withdrawal.  unfortunately, due to a very public anxiety attack i had on social media, i am unable to resume a career at nhvs.   let this be a lesson to all of you, even when you're not in your right mind....don't tag your place of business on facebook when you're having a panic attack!!  because then your boss can read what you wrote and can fire you for it.  keep your anxiety private and internalized, like someone who is always being watched.

basically, my resume is impressive.  and, over the years, i have come to realize and accept that i am very good at what i do.  i have remained humble most of my career, but after working at nhvs and being appreciated by all the doctors i have ever worked for, and every person i have ever worked with offering to be a reference, i decided to embrace my awesomeness as a veterinary technician.  i know my shit, and i ought to be proud of it.

out of the 4 resumes i sent out, two clinics called me back for interviews.  it may have been a higher number, possibly, but one clinic had recently bought out two of the others.....sooooo yeah.  even with only two interviews, i had essentially gotten a call back for all of them.  not too shabby, if i do say so myself. so my interviews were set up for monday and tuesday this week.  this is how they turned out.

monday's interview was perfect.  i was ten minutes early, and i had enough time to curl and style my hair before the event.  i rarely style my hair, but i wanted to impress this potential boss!  my hair is still bright pink, and because that is somewhat of a no-no still in the industry, i had to look good.  i ended up looking kind of like a fat gwen stefani of the late 90s.  i was adorable.  although i talked too much, and gushed too much, and was way too enthusiastic, the boss lady liked me and offered me a position making more money than i'd yet made in houston and exactly the hours i needed on the days i needed them.  i thanked her profusely, but since i had an interview tuesday, i would be sure to give her my decision by the end of the week.

monday night, i was so excited i couldn't sleep.  literally.  i tossed and turned, excited beyond reason about having a job again and doing what i love.  because, with a job offer on the table, no matter how the tuesday interview goes, i have a job.  eeeeeeeeeee!!!!  not only that, but i was overanalyzing all the details and looking ahead five years to see where i would potentially be in the company.  the boss lady had said she wanted me to take on a leadership position, due to my skills and experience as a vet tech instructor, after getting used to the way the clinic worked.  it was a rapidly expanding facility and business, and although it is corporate, the bosses like to keep a 'mom and pop' feel to their locations and allow the doctors and staff to make the minor rules and quality of medicine.  i didn't sleep a wink, which was going to bode poorly for me.

these are my people.

tuesday morning, after getting the kids off to school, i was wiped.  i wanted...needed....to sleep.  but i still had 4 hours till interview time and i was afraid i wouldn't wake up to my alarm.  over the last year, i have become a heavy sleeper.  so i showered and got ready, but decided that, if i set my alarm for 20 min, i would be able to doze lightly and wake up every 20 min until it was time to go.  unfortunately, nothing went as planned.  it took 30 min for me to fall asleep, and at that point i was down for the count and out.  i slept through a total of four alarms and woke up at 1:59pm.  i was supposed to be 30 min away at my interview in exactly one minute.

i texted the doctor that i was running behind, and that i was mortified.  she told me to come anyway, and so i flung the nearest dress on my body and took off for the meeting place.  no time to curl my bubblegum locks.  no makeup to make me look adorable.  just bed head and a dress that honestly clashed with my hair.  i hit 75% of the red lights between my house and the interview, which was being conducted at a starbucks.  i arrived and sat down, flustered as all fuck, spouting apologies.  the doc basically told me gently to shut up and we got on with the interview.  after i arrived, it went well, i suppose.  she is building a new ER in magnolia, and is looking for leadership, experience, and flexibility.  i detailed the hours i would be available, weekends and friday nights mostly, and she was ok with it.  i did offer to help out on weeknights between 10pm-4am if necessary.  but the man doesn't get home from work before 8pm and he leaves at 7am, so i'd have to be home between 6am-8pm on most weekdays.  she offered me the job at the same pay rate as monday's interviewer, but said there would be a significant bump in pay when i am licensed.

this has actually happened to me...

so now i get to decide what to do, and who to go with.  i need to research both the corporate company and the small animal vet that want to hire me.  tonight, i drove to the magnolia clinic, and without traffic it took me 30 min.  it takes about the same amount of time to get to the woodlands clinic, so distance won't be much of a consideration.  basically, i am looking at working for a corporation, which provides financial stability and excellent benefits with a small animal vet that will provide more freedom to be part of the clinic family as a whole and help to make the clinic better on a small scale.  they both have scads of positives and very few negatives, so this decision is going to be so hard.  i don't envy myself at all right now.....my entire career depends on this decision.....how exciting!!!

So, I nearly died this morning...

My eyes hurt.  They kinda felt like I'd been awake for too many hours, even though I'd just gotten up about an hour prior.  I was watching 'Picture Perfect' with the Man, and I kept closing my eyes and pressing into them with my fingers, hoping to alleviate the pain.  I had been asleep for too long, then, I suspected.  Yesterday, I had been nauseous and vomiting and slept all day, then all night.  I frequently feel wonky after sleeping too much.

I checked the timer on my phone.  Six minutes till I could start thinking about rinsing my hair.  So I got up and drank two glasses of water.  Since I'd been sleeping all day and night, I was obviously a little dehydrated from vomiting and not replenishing myself.  I scratched an itch on my scalp and washed my hand.  I didn't want the bleach to burn my finger or affect my acrylic nails.

I moseyed on towards the bathroom, and turned on the shower.  I had three minutes left, but I may as well just rinse my head.  Three minutes isn't that long, and won't make my hair any discernible shade lighter at this point.  I've bleached my hair three times before, and I knew I would retain a vibrant pink no matter how long the bleach was in my previously-purple hair.  What's three minutes?

My mind was anxious.  My body felt shaky.  Probably because of too much sleep, I imagined.  It's never easy to come out of a sleep-coma, and I could nap again after my shower.  The water was still cold - I thought I'd given it enough time to warm up, but I suppose not.  Oh, well, I just want to get this bleach out of my hair.  There's so much of it!  I had used two bleach kits of the same brand because my hair is so long that it requires two boxes.  I could tell that, although I tried to keep the bleach from touching my scalp, I would have a slight chemical burn from the fumes.  I had intentionally not showered for 48 hours so I would have a nice oil buildup, but it hardly helps, I suppose.

My throat and chest kind of tickled.  I coughed.  Again.  I didn't smell anything offputting, not even bleach, so I attributed it to the steam in the shower hitting my lungs.  Man, that's a lot of product in my hair.  I bet shampooing it will help to strip the bleach from my hairs.  And why the fuck am I coughing so much?  It's a dry cough in a steamy shower.  Weird.

Now I'm dizzy.  What the ever loving fuck?  My scalp hurts, and I can't stop coughing.  I feel weak, so I lean against the wall.  Maybe it's an overwhelming smell of bleach that's affecting me.  So I pull out the citrus-smelling face wash and scrub my face.  The smell is pleasant, but now I am breathing with my mouth open and I have no idea why.  Maybe I'm still sick or dehydrated from yesterday.  I just need to condition my hair, though, and I can get out of the shower.  I *was* gonna shave my legs, but...nah.  Not up for it today.  I should really drink more water.  I've become kind of a pussy lately, what with the sleeping too much.

I start moaning out loud, cuz I am feeling so weird and I can't put a finger on what's wrong.  My eyes keep closing and I have to wrench them open with lots of thought.  I tell myself to pull it the fuck together.  It's just a shower, dammit!  I am so confused right now.  Oh, yeah, conditioner.  Oh.  It's already on my head.  Ok.  I can do this.  I just need to rinse it out a little and then I can get out of the shower.  I let go of the wall and lean back into the shower.  I lose my balance and catch myself, and decide to rinse while leaning against the wall.  I face the shower and lean in.  Oh wow.  My breathing is so fast right now.  I'm trying to gulp air into my lungs through the waterfall that is my face.  I don't want to drown, so I turn around again.

I yank the curtain open halfway.  I must be having trouble with the steam.  I need some air, because apparently the steam is causing me to gasp this way.  What is going on with me?  Is this supposed to happen?

I began to imagine how bad it must be for people who have heart attacks who can't breathe.  Because I am a totally normal 35 year old who is just feeling wonky and I am pretty damn miserable.  Lying down and sleeping sounds pretty good right now.  I wonder when people who have heart attacks fall down?  Do they choose to get down, or do they just collapse? How bad does one have to feel before collapsing?  Because i can hardly feel my legs right now.  Maybe I should kneel down a little.  Wait.  Heart attack.  Am I having a heart attack?  Where's my pulse?  There it is.  Wow.  My heart is beating at.....I don't know...1, 2, 3, how long is six seconds?  Aw, Hell, it's probably about 120+ right now.  If I have a pulse, it isn't a heart attack.  so what is going on?  Geez, i really can't breathe...i keep gasping and i am really feeling faint right now so i am gonna go ahead and kneel down now.  oh crap i still have conditioner in my hair.  i need to rinse it.

oh.  my head wants to get heavy.  ok.  i can lie here.  why won't the air make my lungs feel better? i just want to rinse the conditioner out of my hair right now.  i don't know if i am still attached to my body right now.  i hope the man is awake.

i yell for the man.

i continue to gasp for air, using the entirety of my tidal volume.  i don't know how much time has passed and the man hasn't arrived.  i yell for the man again.

i don't know how long it was before he showed up but i can't breathe and i think i tell him that.  i have no idea what i looked like.  but i was sitting in the tub, leaning heavily over the side with my head on the side of the tub.  my mouth never closed, and i can only imagine how fast i was trying to breathe.  i felt like a freshly caught fish.  i couldn't move.

the man turns off the water. he covers me in a towel.  he pats my back.  he is obviously confused as to what to make of the situation in front of him.

i think i tried to cry.  but i couldn't because my entire body was focused on bringing in oxygen that it needed but couldn't find.  i wanted to cry.

somehow he moves me to the bed.  i felt like there was an invisible line on my elbows and knees, and the distal parts of my limbs were static.  not pins and needles.  just static.  i couldn't see objects.  just colors with no outline or structure.  i moved but my mind was too muddy to record anything.  i remember trying to talk and feeling my tongue not move.  it felt swollen.  i immediately assumed i had a stroke.  or an allergic reaction.

but i could breathe.  i wasn't gasping for air anymore.  that was a plus.  i could feel my legs and arms again.  my head started to clear.  and my tongue deflated and began to work again.  so i took a nap.

OMG! PUPPIES! j/k...

OMG LOOK!  A PUPPY!

So you have a female dog, and she's the sweetest, most adorable, most loving creature on Earth.  There has never been, nor will there ever be, a dog remotely as wonderful and loving.  Ever.  So you think about having her have puppies.  Why not?  She isn't spayed, she's adorable, and about six people you know swear they'd love to have a puppy if your dog gets pregnant!  Plus, as an extra bonus, it will teach your kids/niblings/neighbor kids about the birds and the bees and the miracle of life!  And maybe, just maybe, you can make a buck or two in the process!  Not much, just a 'rehoming fee' to cover initial vaccinations or something.  Maybe enough for a night out with the significant other at the Cheesecake Factory, too.  Yeah....who doesn't love the Cheesecake Factory?

Well, there are a LOT of reasons why you shouldn't do it.  Lots of reasons.  I know it's really, really tempting to have puppies.  Believe me - I've been in the veterinary field for a long time, and I love little baby critters more than anyone I know!  But, seeing as we are all grown-ups here, we have responsibilities towards those we love.  And, if you truly love your dog, you won't breed her.  Here is a list of reasons why you won't breed her, and instead get her spayed at your earliest convenience.

1) You've heard this before from your vet (if you're a responsible pet owner and get your dog her shots), but spaying your bitch decreases health risks.  

this is pus coming from the uterus.  gross.

This includes cancer and uterine infections.  Specifically, I speak of a condition called Pyometra.  This literally means Pus Uterus.  One type of pyometra is a silent killer, and you won't know your dog is critically ill until she is either in shock or dead.  Cool, huh?  So you could be saving her life without putting it in danger just by spaying her.

2) Having a litter of puppies can increase the risk of cancers, and greatly increases the risk of pyometra.

3) Proper breeding costs money.

Dogs can get STDs just like humans, and Brucellosis (an STD) can cause illness and abortions.  Therefore, testing for Brucellosis is ideal prior to breeding.  Not only that, but you'd need to take your dog to the vet a couple times during the pregnancy to have her checked out.  Just to be sure that the pups are developing properly and mama is doing ok.  This generally includes an ultrasound and/or x-rays along with the normal exam.  And let's not forget that mama dog has to be properly vaccinated and have the proper flea/tick medication up to date.  You don't want flea-infested puppies that will either die of flea anemia or the topical flea killer you try to use on them...
After the pups are born, you need to take the whole lot of them in for a once-over by the vet within the first week to make sure they are healthy.  You need to invest in a scale that reads in ounces to be sure each pup is gaining weight properly.  And it is your responsibility to make sure all pups are vaccinated and dewormed prior to going to their new homes. Oh, and if you have a breed that 'requires' it, removing the dew claws is on your dime, too.

cleft palate and lip

4) Emergency C-Section surgery can cost about $3,000.  

No dog breed is immune to the possibility of needing emergency surgery to get the puppies out.  Since there is no sure-fire way to know if your dog will need a C-Section until labor starts and doesn't progress, it's best to be prepared.  Generally, pugs, English bulldogs, and many chihuahuas require a c-section simply due to their natural anatomy.  Large heads/shoulders and small pelvises.

mama eating the umbilical cord

5)The miracle of life is messy.

Lochia, the green, ubiquitous placenta-juice that gets everywhere during labor will stain your hands, your clothing, and everything it touches.  And it doesn't always come out.
Mama dog will also eat the amniotic sac, the fluid, and the placenta.  Probably not all at once, and its disgusting.  Sometimes, the mama will be so vigorous in her ingestion of these items that she can actually rip a hole in the tummy of the puppy.  In this case, the puppy will need to be taken to the nearest vet clinic, day or night, and euthanized.  Poor, poor puppy.  :'(

6) Mama dog may not take to motherhood.

Some dogs just don't take to motherhood.  Whether it's the first time, the third time, or what have you.  She may be afraid of the alien beings she just birthed, she may ignore them, or she may choose to attack and eat them.  That's nature.  Sad, disgusting, horrible nature.

7) How many in a litter?

how many do YOU count?

You can't know, prior to about 45 days into the 63 day gestation, how many puppies there will be.  There could be as few as 1 puppy, which would make the puppy huge by the end of the pregnancy and require a c-section.  There could be as many as 12, which causes headache in rehoming, vaccinating, worming, etc.

8) People are unreliable.

Six of your friends say they'd LOVE to have one of your puppies!!  But, this thing just came up, and they're suddenly broke.  Or they are moving soon and can't have one.  Or some other excuse.  Then you end up giving the puppies away on craigslist and they end up as bait dogs in a dogfighting ring and all you ever wanted was to witness the miracle of life and make a carbon copy of your dog....

9) Breed Predispositions.

umbilical hernia

If you have a purebred dog, you need to keep in mind the life you may want to bring into the world, and the ramifications of doing so.  Many dog breeds have diseases they tend to get, based on breed.  For example, golden retrievers are prone to cancers, cavalier king charles spaniels have heart disease, etc.  Here is a list of diseases each AKC-recognized breed is predisposed to.
If you don't have a purebred dog, you can't possibly know its potential for disease.  Best be safe, rather than sorry, and not breed your dog.  And don't even get me started on birth defects.  there are many.

10) You're murdering perfectly good, innocent dogs.

For every puppy that is rehomed out of the litter you want to have, a shelter puppy/dog dies.  I understand that this isn't 100% accurate, as some people who would take a dog from you won't go out and adopt one from the shelter.  BUT thousands of dogs die every day because there is a shortage of loving homes.  And having puppies means that you are bringing more dogs into this world that may be abandoned later in life, ending up as a stray at a rescue, and killed simply because there wasn't enough homes to go around.  Think about the footprint your litter of puppies is leaving on the world.

The best idea is to decide WHY you want to have a litter of puppies.

"I want (kids/niblings/neighbor kids) to witness the miracle of life"
**go visit youtube**
"I need money"
**you won't make money.**
"My dog is so adorable and sweet.  We need more dogs like her."
**no, we don't.  just look at the sweet, adoptable dogs being killed every day at the shelter.  also, no puppy is going to be a carbon copy of yours.  they are all unique.**
**stop being so selfish**
"I wanna see what the puppies would look like"
**use photoshop**

cleft palate

Update

I know it has been nearly two months since my last blog post.  I am sorry...a lot has been going on, and I was unable to find the words necessary to describe the changes.  I still can't, but I have decided that it doesn't matter and I will just have to make this one muddled post and catch up.

The Man came back from Turkey and was informed that there was no longer a job for him.  What an outright disappointment.  He had only been with the company for 9 months, and had worked his ass off for them.  I had left my career behind for it, and we had dedicated everything we had to it.  BUT c'est la vie, we are fine.  They gave him a month notice and no severance, since he hadn't been there long, and he was able to find two jobs that paid more and were local.  He chose the one that paid the most with the best benefits.  Good job.  However, he took about three weeks off of work in between jobs to relax and shit, and so we are kind of out a paycheck for the month of July.  He won't get paid till August 15 or so, and so that really, really sucks.

I haven't done any more work on my sleeve tattoo, because of the lack of funds in the household.  Fortunately, the Man has agreed that he likes the sleeve and will continue to fund it when he is paid again.  So I only need to wait another month or so in order to hear the distinctive buzz of the tattoo shoppe and smell the disinfecting wash.  I like that smell.

We dealt with CPS the best way we could, and I think the case might be closing or closed soon.  I honestly don't know.  The lady said she wanted to be sure that my house was clean before she closed the case...so she came by and the house was spotless....and she left.  who knows where that will end up?

I began my journey anew to the bariatric surgery.  Since we are switching insurance companies, I don't know how it will affect me.  I have gone to get the psych evaluation that was required, and I have been to the first of my nutrition classes.  I am now on a ketotic diet to attempt to lose some weight before the surgery.  On Aetna, I have to do three months of the nutrition classes, and I am not allowed to gain any weight prior to the surgery.  However, I don't have Aetna anymore, I believe that we will be on Blue Cross Blue Shield of Texas and there will be a whole other set of rules to abide by, starting August 1.  FUN!!

As for the diet, the nutritionist seemed pretty militant about it.  Which I can understand.  But after talking to other women who have had the same and similar procedures, it is best not to sabotage myself with an abrupt diet change.  I have started 'eating' three meals a day (as part of the ketotic diet, one meal needs to be a high protein shake).  I am drinking the amount of water they require (64oz).  I am struggling with not drinking for 30 min prior to a meal and an hour after the meal though.  I have considered setting timers throughout the day to tell me when to snack, when to drink, etc.  But then the timers would be going off every hour and a half and it would get weird.  However, then I would get into the routine.....I am so freaking lazy about this right now.  My favorite snack so far is raw almonds with a few coconut flakes.  I couldn't find coconut flakes without sugar on them, but again....not sabotaging myself yet.  So i am allowing myself a little leeway here and there.  I had dinner at a friend's house last night and she made chicken fajitas.  They had corn and black beans....and although I am supposed to stay away from corn and tortillas, I ate them.  And they were healthy and delicious.  Certainly better than something I would pick up at a drive through.

And then there's my dating life.....that's a whole other blog.  Literally.

My son and his friend, who will be moving far away next month, are debating the ninja skills of TMNT and Ninjago Legos.  Oh, and now they have lightsabres.  My kids are awesome.  My other son is in his room, reading.  Awesome.

Today

Today, I feel amazing.  I woke up from some amazing dreams and realized it was afternoon.  Oops.  But I felt good.  I actually *wanted* to take a shower.  It wasn't an exhausting burden to me.  Which it's been for about six months now.  I *wanted* to go to the gym.  And I got to. My back doesn't hurt today, which is amazing.  It hurts every day without end, despite pain meds.  But today, I feel good.  I feel light again, on my feet.  I feel as though I could be fine and I am optimistic.  I am back to my usual self today!

I knuckled down and did 17:51 on the elliptical with a resistance of 5.  I find that I do best when I close my eyes and step to the beat of the music.  My workout mix has fast and slow songs, and they are on random, so that I do a good 2-4 minutes fast, then another 2-4 min slower.  I just focus on the beat and my legs and the time passes.  I breathe in for 4 beats, and out for 4 beats.  Unless I am mouthing the words.  Then all Hell breaks loose and I get out of breath.  Although I couldn't do a full 20 min on the elliptical yet, my legs did not feel sandbaggy like they have for months.  I felt the burn and not the sand in my legs.  That.  Felt.  So.  GOOD.  And it's not because I have been going to the gym cuz I haven't been in almost 2 weeks.  I randomly wake up feeling normal, before sinking back into a sandbaggy, mentally slow state again.

Then, the hand bike.  There was no neuromuscular dysfunction!  Even at a higher resistance than before (I usually stay at 5-6/10, but today I was at 7-8/10), I was able to keep the rpm at 80-90.  I barely make it above 65 most days.  Because there is something blocking the signal from going through.  But to keep going for a full 12 minutes, so I could make up the time I lost on the elliptical, I ended up sticking to the beat of the music and not focusing on rpms.  I made sure that I was feeling all the muscles go through all of the phases of rotation for the hand bike.  I felt all the muscles moving, and remembered that it is a good idea to go slow sometimes so that you can build up muscles properly, and not just ream them with rapid movements all the time.

Then I did some weight machines....not as many as usual, because people were using the leg machines I needed and I simply didn't want to wait.  I was sweating buckets and done with exercise. LOL

I think I convinced The Man to let us go bowling today, and maybe then the older Squiddo and I can play pool.  He's already better than me and only 10 years old.  Yikes.

Pity Party Post

It's nobody's fault but my own. I feel so alone even surrounded by friends. Tonight, a whole group of people relocated across the bar for me, because I feel most comfortable next to the DJ. This was an obscenely kind act. I sing with a group of people between 10-13 years my junior. And they still feel inclined to help my anxiety by sitting near me so I can be included. At the start of the night, I am in awe of my friends. And I feel so loved.  A little anxious because I'm the reason they moved, but they offered and I said, 'only if you want to.'

But then I end the night depressed and feeling alone. Why?  Because I am dumb. And ugly. And fat. And I will never be a girl men want to be around. I sit at a table of six men and two women, one of which is me. The other is a beautiful, slender woman with nice legs and a small (but elegant) rack.  A couple of the men act as though I'm a real person who exists. But the others don't seem to realize im there. They focus on the beauty. And who wouldn't want her attention?  She's nice and sweet and only mildly self centered. She's perfect.  And they all want her in some way.

I've never been wanted like that in public. At least, not by more than one person at a time. I envy her ability to make men buy her drinks and compliment her without even trying. Even as I type this, I see how absurd I sound and how dumb I am, but I want what she has. I hate that I want it. I love myself. I'm an amazing person. Why can't I be happy for her?  Ugh.

I'm dumb. I know. But it's a visceral part of me. I was a swinger for seven years, off and on, and I had men clamoring for me online. But never in person. Never a random man. Because I am an acquired taste, or a specialty dish. Not everyone wants me. But I want to be wanted by everyone. I want to be in her shoes.   And I hate that I want that.

And so I am invisible and alone in a group of people yet again, because I'm not pretty. *sigh*

Fat Girl Cosplay

I actually did it - I cosplayed for the first time ever this past weekend!  I have always had an affection for Harley Quinn, and although I am quite overweight, I feel as though she is my alter ego.  She is smart, sexy, a little crazy, and passionate.  All qualities I see in myself.  But to be honest, being overweight is like having a physical deformity.  It's an elephant in the room.  *I* am the elephant in the room.  HQ is lithe and curvacious because she is a gymnast.  I am not.  I am lumpy and bumpy.  And I hear all sorts of stories about haters who will say anything just to hurt someone.  Like, 'aren't you too fat for that outfit/character?'

Saturday, I went to the Comicpalooza in plain clothes.  I saw some amazing cosplay and some obviously last-minute stuff.  My costume was in between, so I knew I wouldn't be on either end of the spectrum.  I didn't see any other fat Harleys, but I saw other overweight people pulling off other cosplays and so I knew I wouldn't be the only one.  I was so excited, that we left early without really seeing anything because I HAD TO GET MY COSTUME ON. 

SELFIE!  HAAAAY!

Sunday morning, I got all dolled up as HQ. I have purple hair, and I tried to spray paint the tips red and black, but it didn't work.  I put on white face makeup but had a slight reaction and so I had to remove it.

I had already created my mallet ages ago, before I ever decided to go to a comic con.  I always knew I wanted to cosplay as Harley, so it made sense to me.  I made it with a thick, dense foam rolled up and covered by a yoga mat.  Then I pierced it with a knife and shoved a shovel handle into it.  The mallet itself, without the handle, weighs under five pounds.  Light as a MF feather, and durable as all shit.  The handle adds weight, but the whole thing is under 15# and is easy to maneuver, as long as you have the room to do so.

The dress itself is a pattern I found in a Simplicity catalog and made it myself.  Being that I am borderline dyslexic in all things, it was very hard for me to imagine which side was which and the fact that it turned out remotely like the pattern made me almost pee my pants in joy.  The diamonds I placed on the dress were cut out from a pattern I saw online and used the paper from the printer as a pattern for the fabric.

I had Leg Avenue Plus Size tights, red and black striped of course.And instead of kick ass red and black boots or elf shoes, I wore my Harley Quinn Chucks.  That's right.  Beloved bought me HQ Converse for my birthday last year, and I wear them when I wanna feel especially cool.

my youngest squiddo also wanted to wear a costume, and so he went as a ghostbuster with an inflatable gun.  It was so cute!!  He also decided he wanted to play with my mask and mallet before we left, and since the mallet is nearly his size, I took pics.  I swear he is just adorable.  And I am not just saying that because I am his mom.  I swear.

the young squid with a mallet

I was so scared and excited and my tummy was in knots as I walked the four blocks to the convention center from the parking lot.  Would anyone notice me?  It would be hard not to....but still.  Would I get positive reviews or negative jeers?  I spent all of Saturday telling every cosplayer I saw how much I loved their costume.  Would I get the same?

It was a success.  I walked around everywhere and got smiles and nods from people.  Five people even asked to take my picture, which was HUGE for me!  Random people think I did well enough to have my picture taken!  OMG OMG OMG!  I had hoped for more, but I don't blame them.  Sunday I saw no fewer than six other Harleys, all of which had pristine, majorly complex costumes on lithe, skinny bodies.  And I am practically in a mumu.  Hah. 

my friend took this pic of me

Anyway, it all turned out well.  I can't help but thank all of the people who had gone before me as plus sized cosplayers.  People who fought for the right to cosplay as whomever the fuck you want.  The people who dealt with the negativity until the positivity and persistence of the cosplayers wiped them out.  I am hoping that in Denver in two weeks that I have the same sort of response.  I want to go there and have fun as Fat Harley.  Some day I will go as regular Harley.....maybe even a cute Harley.  Where I fit into the costumes made for normal sized people.  But until then, I have a solid and Comicpalooza-approved Harley costume that fits. :)

Confessions of a fat girl

ummm dude.  you're backwards.

I haven't been to the gym in over ten days.  Since CPS came to my door last week, I haven't had a day without the kids with me, and I can't take them to the gym without paying.  I took the kids to the doctor, the lab for blood work, and then one of my sons was suspended.  Suspended!!!  Today I finally have a day to go to the gym, and I seem to have misplaced my gym shorts.  I found them just in tie for my boys to get home from school.  I feel like an absolute failure.  Here I am, joining a gym, and then NOT GOING.  Valid reasons or not, it feels like I am making excuses.  No more.  Tomorrow I Go To The Gym No Matter What.

CPS came to the house because someone reported me for 'medical neglect' of my children because they 'seem depressed' and 'come to school out of uniform and dirty.'  My boys don't like school, but that doesn't make them depressed.  And as there is no uniform, my boys are always in dress code and usually clean.  Since the definition of a boy is noise with dirt on it, that is.  They shower every other day and since they are prepubescent, that is totally fine.  When they start smelling up the joint with their hormones and angst, they will shower daily.

for the record, my kids are free range. cage free.

Since I took the boys to their head shrinker in March, and the school knew of this, and the head shrinker said to test the boys for adhd, I got the tests for adhd.  Now I can't find anyone to get results from, since the shrink said she can't do it and the pediatrician said he'd prefer a shrink do it.  I am back at square one, and there is only a week of school left.  Oh, and CPS had to reschedule their second visit, which could have closed the case, because some poor kid was abused and in the hospital so they had to take care of that kid first.  I pray for that kid, and I rarely pray.  CPS has so many more kids that actually need their assistance.  I don't get why I am being punished like this, any why CPS is wasting their time on me. 

In two weeks, I leave for Colorado with the kids.  I am going to the Denver Comic Con and then basically coming home so I can get started on my nutrition classes for the bariatric surgery.  Three months of that, and I can get sliced and diced and put back together to avoid my duodenum.  yay.

Seriously Suicide

When I was in 7th grade, I lived in Fort Collins, CO.  One of my research papers for advanced English class had to deal with a difficult subject that teenagers deal with on a daily basis.  My friends chose topics like animal testing for makeup and learning to drive.  I chose the topic of suicide.  Being that this was back before the Age of Information, I dusted off psychology books and encyclopedias in the quiet and oddly dim library of Boltz Middle School.  I took copious notes, and even went to the public library to pour over the tomes inside.

By 7th grade, I had contemplated suicide more than once, and I was curious as to how I could do it without hurting myself.  I didn't actually want to commit suicide, at least I didn't think I did, but there was a certain glamour and morbid curiosity surrounding this enigma.  My report ended up being relatively lighthearted and my conclusion was to not bother with suicide, because, should you fail (and lots of people fail), you will simply be worse off than you were to begin with.  Pills bring about headaches and organ failure, if you don't tie the rope properly and place the knot in the proper position, you will just choke to death, and jumping from an overpass into traffic leaves you with broken bones and pain.

For whatever reason, suicide seems to be my shadow throughout this life that I live.  The very title of my blog, transient empathy, came about because of my career and my Aspie abilities of hyperempathy.  In order to survive a life so full of the grieving of others, I had to learn to let the empathy, the grief, the horrors that I encounter through others, flow through me instead of taking root and flourishing.  I am able to feel when others are bottoming out and hopeless, and in what way.  In this way, I am blessed with the desire to help those who have nothing else and nobody else to turn to.  Unfortunately, I see the black despair in some that lead me to believe that they will eventually take their own lives.

In the early years of the new century, I was working at an emergency clinic in Colorado Springs, CO.  We would have mandatory staff meetings every month, and at one staff meeting, the boss' wife came and did a talk on suicide.  It appears a client of ours had gone home, at the age of only 17 years, and killed himself.  Those who had encountered this young gentleman and his critically injured dog were in shock, and so the boss figured it was in our best interests to have a debriefing and informational meeting on the topic.  I was not one who had met this young man and dog, and so I was left to absorb the shock and grief of those around me.  But I also was able to gain some valuable insight into those who follow through with suicide.

From what I remember, the client in question had just lost his parents in a tragic vehicle accident.  He was living with this grandparents, whom he didn't get along with, and his little dog was his only beloved family member.  The pup had been attacked by a larger dog, and was on the brink of death when it came through the door.  My intrepid coworkers were able to keep the poor thing alive and as comfortable as possible throughout the night, and transferred the pet to the primary care vet in the morning.  Unfortunately, at the primary care vet, the patient gave up the ghost and died shortly after arrival.  There had really been nothing anyone could do, but because my dear coworkers saw that this young man had nothing left, they tried their best.  His grandparents spared no expense, as this dog was the only link their grandson had left to his prior life.  The young man, stricken with grief, abandoned his grandparents at the vet clinic, went home, and promptly shot himself to death.  His grandparents came home not ten minutes later to find him gone.

I have lost people close to me abruptly, and so I can imagine the pain my coworkers must have felt.  Seeing his heartache, meeting him, comforting him, and then knowing he was gone was just too much for some.  The boss' wife mentioned that there had been numerous red flags in this case that alerted her to the possibility of him taking his own life (in retrospect, of course).  First of all, he was male.  Men attempt suicide more frequently than women.  Second, he was a teenager.  we all know how teenage hormones and angst get to us, and how confusing it all can be.  Third, he had just lost his parents to a traumatic event.  And fourth, he lost his one remaining bit of normalcy when his dog passed away.

She then taught us what to look for, and warning signs of clients who may be suicidal.  Being that emergency vets work in a high stress environment, and pets are beloved family members, we tend to encounter more grieving and potentially suicidal people than many other career paths.

The first thing we look at is how the person is acting, and more specifically what they are saying.  Grieving people do not usually say, "I have nothing left to live for" or, "s/he was my only lifeline."  In these cases, we need to go forward and ask if the person has someone who can come and be with them during this troubling time.  People who have a support structure of friends and family do not usually do not attempt suicide.  Contacting a loved one and alerting them to the situation can frequently halt the downward spiral of emotion simply by allowing that person to get a hug, or a conversation, or just companionship.  The age of a person is also a factor.  Younger people tend to attempt suicide more than older people.  And then again, whether there have been other traumatic events in their life.

The biggest thing to remember, however, is that those who are set on committing suicide will do so, no matter what you say or do.  If someone has any doubt that they want to die, you can usually arrange things so that they are talked out of it.  But for those intent on ending their life, they will succeed, and there is nothing that you would have been able to do.  This is what I have to remember.

Last year, I got a facebook message from an acquaintance.  He told me that a friend had been taken to the ER and to pray for her.  It turns out, she had taken her own life and this acquaintance, her best friend, had found her and called 911.  I had just spoken to her a week prior.  She showed no signs of being suicidal.  She had so much to live for.  She had friends and a son that she loved more than life itself.  I went to see her in the hospital, after she had been resuscitated.  She was brain dead.  I had to say goodbye to her while she was in a permanent state of tremors.  As the tears rolled down my face, and I brushed her leaf-and-dirt-encrusted hair behind her ear, the only thing I could do to console myself was to remember what I learned that day back in the veterinary ER staff meeting.  Suicidal people can be tricky and fool everyone around them.  And ultimately, there was nothing I could do.

Humans can take a major beating, emotionally.  Most humans, anyway.  I have seen a lot of grief and a lot of trauma and an insane amount of people at their worst.

I once met a woman who brought in her two dogs, both had been hit by a car.  Her fiance had been killed a year prior, and they had adopted these dogs together.  They were her final attachment to the memory and life she had shared with the man she loved.  Neither dog survived, and so she spent the entire night curled up with her deceased dogs in the exam room because she simply couldn't let go sooner.  She was able to leave in the morning, after grieving all night at the clinic.  It broke my heart.

Another woman brought in her Labrador and it turned out that he had cancer.  It was aggressively malignant, and as the woman was deciding whether or not to start treatment when her dog became agonal.  He began to gasp for breath and she screamed louder than anyone I had ever heard before.  I rushed into the exam room, and she had flung herself into a wall, scared of the agonal breathing, and collapsed on the floor, still screaming.  Fortunately, she had friends with her and they helped me pick her up and get her to a sink where she projectile vomited for a few minutes before approving euthanasia to allow her dog's passing to be calmer.

I have seen widows and widowers bringing me their pets that had belonged to their beloved spouse for treatment.  I have consoled children and adults, in words they can understand and emotions they can feel.  It's as if I am trying to make up karmic points so that I never have to go through seeing my loved ones deal with a suicide ever again.  I dunno.  I have been wanting to get all this out for some time.  I know it isn't a happy or impressive blog post.  I hope somebody makes it this far.  I still think about suicide on a regular basis, and I don't know why.  I won't ever try it on myself.  Perhaps I am being prepared for a future in which a loved one takes their own life.  Or maybe I took mine in a previous life.  UGH ok I am done.  Thanks for reading.

Pets With Allergies

Let's face it.  We all want what is best for our pets.  And that means giving them the highest quality food we can afford, and all the love One can possibly squeeze into the years we have with our beloved fur-babies.  Lately a lot of canine and feline diets are becoming gluten-free or grain-free.  And the manufacturers are touting that they are the best kind of diets for your pet.  It all seems simple - wild dogs and cats eat meat, thereby we need to give our pets meat.  Lots of meat.  All sorts of meat!  The truth is, many pet allergies are not caused by gluten or grains.  It is caused by the proteins in the meats we are providing.

Helpful Info

Signs of a pet who is suffering from food allergies is not always straightforward.  Chronic ear infections can be a sign of a food allergy, as can itchy skin and alopecia (loss of hair/bald spots).  Flea allergies usually manifest along the back of your pet and the base of the tail.  Seasonal allergies usually result in itchy, watery eyes and a swollen throat (which you will notice because Fido will start snoring).  Chewing on paws and swollen feet can also be a sign of allergies.  A more severe food allergy can cause vomiting and even diarrhea or a major gastrointestinal malfunction.  It all depends on how your individual pet reacts internally to the allergens present in meals.

It is vitally important to allow your pet's doctor to run tests to rule out other causes of the signs.  If there is hair loss, the vet will do skin scrapings to rule out lice and mites, and blood tests to check for metabolic problems such as Cushing's Disease.  For chronic ear infections, the vet will do ear cytologies (look at the ear gunk under a microscope) to see if the ear gook is primarily yeast or bacterial based.  If antibiotics and potentially steroids don't help, the vet will move on to blood work to see if there are other inflammatory processes going on.

With vomiting, diarrhea, and more severe GI issues (like protein-losing enteropathies), the main signs of a direct allergy from food, your vet will need to check for and rule out other underlying issues.  X-rays and blood work are the cornerstones of this diagnosis.  First, the vet will look at basic bloodwork to rule out pancreatitis, liver and kidney diseases, and other dysfunctions of the GI tract.  X-rays will rule out potential 'foreign bodies', which are things your pet may have ingested that are not digestable (socks, underwear, lightbulbs, rubber duckies...).  Usually, the vet will then put your pet on a bland diet.  This bland diet is quite literally chicken and rice and broth all blended into one pasty glop.  You can even make it at home, if you are so inclined.

The bland diet probably won't work if your pet has a nasty food allergy, however, because again, food allergies are frequently protein allergies.  At this point, the vet will likely recommend a hypoallergenic diet containing hydrolized proteins.  Hydrolized proteins are basically regular proteins that have been broken down already into their small amino acid componants.  This is intended to help the pet digest the food easier and not have such a reaction to the proteins. 

Diet changes can take a while to see results.  The GI tract can take a while to calm down after allergens piss it off because it won't get time to rest properly.  Nutrition is an important part of staying alive, and so the GI tract has to work through the pain.  So diets may take a week or more to start working for your pet.  If the hydrolized proteins don't make your pet feel better, or if your pet won't eat it, there are novel protein diets that can be prescribed.  These diets contain other types of meat proteins such as venison and duck along with potatoes and peas.  And if even these diets don't work, the University of Tennessee has a whole nutritional program that will formulate a diet specifically for your pet.  I knew a sweet little Maltese with a protein-losing enteropathy who was being fed mahi-mahi and greens every day - and it worked for her!

There is a way to test your pet for all sorts of allergies, much like the human serum and skin tests.  It is time and financially intensive, but it may be worth it.  Either your vet can send in a lot of blood to a pet allergy lab, or you can schedule an appointment with a pet dermatologist to have a dermal test run.  This is when the doctor and tech take known allergens and inject them into the skin layer and watch for a reaction.  In this case, your pet will be half naked for a month or so until the fur grows back, but it is worth it to know what to avoid.

Common medications for allergies, whether food or otherwise, include steroids, allergy medicine (Benadryl or other seasonal medications as per your vet), and GI protectants to help calm the inflammation.  Steroids are usually tapered off so as not to shock your pet's system into a disease called an Addisonian Crisis.  NEVER EVER discontinue steroids without consulting and approval by your vet.  It can literally kill your pet if steroids are abruptly stopped.

You can see there are lots of ways to help your pet live a better life, even if s/her has allergies.  And purchasing diets with more meat protein may not ultimately make your pet healthier.  Even wild cats and dogs munch on grasses to supplement their meals.  Pay attention to your fur-baby and if anything seems out of the ordinary, take your pet to the vet.  Believe it or not, that's what they're there for. 

Bad Day

I am having a bad day physically today.  I woke up fine, after sleeping most of yesterday because I was exhausted for some reason.  But I feel like I have sandbag legs again today, and moving takes more effort than usual.  I was hoping that, since I am going to the gym and using all of my muscle groups, that I would not have to deal with this pain again.  My lower back hurts, and just walking to the neighbor's house two doors down and back took forever.  And I got winded.  I expect that going to the gym even 4 days a week would afford me enough muscle buildup that I wouldn't experience these symptoms anymore.  Especially since I don't seem to be as weak as I once thought I was.

I am so confused over all of this.  I joined the gym to prove to myself that I didn't have an underlying neuromuscular disease.  I am just fat and out of shape.  How much time should I give myself before I think that I may have something else going on?  Besides, of course, my CNS test coming back very slow/low.  Oh well....I think the MRI company called to schedule a brain scan and I missed the call.  Gonna have to call back Monday.

Also, I have to get Tom Baker fixed Monday and Penelope has a recall on her ignition switch I have to get fixed asap.....the poor cars.  They're in as bad a shape as I am.

Gym Day Four

I have sucked at starting at the gym.  I've officially been a member for a week, and I have only gone 4 days.  I am kind of pissed at myself, but I am also confident I will go more next week.  I am so out of shape that I am sore each day after I go. 

I did more cardio this time, starting with elliptical for 15 minutes, hand bike for 10 minutes, and the rowing machine for 5 minutes.  The rowing machines are right next to a huge mirror, so I got to watch my marshmallow-shaped self row.  And row.  And row.  I looked absurd, but I also looked as though I was working out.  And that sucker works you out!  Legs and arms and back.  I didn't do any better on the hand bike, this time maxing out at 70 rpm.  It's just an awkward machine, where I get to avoid my giant boobs every rotation.

I ended up doing the TRX, in which I use my own weight against me.  I do upside-down pushups and right side up assisted squats.  My heart rate, for the full 50 min I was at the gym, was within my fat-burning range. 

So I guess that's it.  Not a very interesting gym trip. 

Initial Doctor Visit

Nervously, I went to go see the doctor/surgeon for the weight loss surgery.  Going in, I knew I was going to have to do a three month diet plan (doctor supervised) for the insurance to pay for the procedure.  Three years ago, I went to another surgeon to discuss the same things.  I was afraid that this place was going to be the same - cookie cutter talks from the surgeon, pressuring for surgery.  This was not the case.

I saw Dr Primomo at The Davis Clinic in Memorial City, TX.  The lobby itself was vastly different from my prior experience, and I was instantly comforted.  The colors were all natural and soothing, and the chairs and benches available were all made for larger people.  The front desk ladies were sweet and had no problem rechecking my insurance, as I had reached my deductible since they had last checked.  Instead of a $230 office visit, I paid $23 because of that.  *whew* The ladies up front had also taken the time to email me a few times before my appointment, and I had my paperwork ready.  I had also listened to a webinar that Dr Primomo had done, so I was up to date on what he offered and how to use the surgery as a tool for weight loss.  I was also very impressed at the detail he went into, and how he made the vast array of information available in bite sized pieces for laypersons.

Dr Primomo was just as awesome in person as he was in the webinar.  He asked me questions about myself, listened to my concerns and hopes and history of diet and exercise.  He comforted me in that he said that once a body has been at a high BMI for so long, the body will do anything to stay there, and so diet and exercise won't work as well.  Since I have been overweight since I was 12, it certainly explains a lot.  In addition to having the polycystic ovarian disease and insulin resistance, of course.  He assured me that the weight WILL come off, and it will be up to me to keep it off.  He explained that the way the RNY surgery is done, it bypasses the entire Duodenum and attaches straight to the Jejunum, which for some reason (hasn't been figured out yet) cures diabetes, insulin resistance, and the basic fat-related inflammatory process that makes the body hold onto the fat.  I have a hypothesis on that, in that it's because it bypasses the pancreas and bile duct, which is where fats and proteins are broken down.....but that's just me.

Unfortunately, due to insurance, I have to wait 30 days from my initial consult with the surgeon to start seeing the nutritionist and getting my supervised diet started.  So the earliest I can have surgery is sometime in September, presuming everything goes well.  That means that the kids will be back in school by the time I bite the bullet and need rest and a special diet.  And by Christmas, maybe I will be small enough to fit in an airline seat without spilling over to the next one....

Day Three At The Gym

It's looking amazing

I can't go to the gym on the weekends because I don't pay for the child care.  So I plan to go M-F during the day so that I don't have to worry about the kids.  But yesterday, Monday, I was a lazy piece of shit and had a tattoo appointment so when I overslept, I just went to get my tattoo sleeve worked on.  I skipped the gym.  I deserve a spanking.  (giggity)

So today is the day I got to take all of my trainer's advice and stuff and put it to the test.  I hopped on a treadmill and popped a 7 incline (dunno what that means) at just over 2 mph.  Now, I prefer the elliptical because it doesn't make my back spasm, but the trainer prefers me on the treadmill and so here I go.  After five minutes, I am sorry to say, my heart rate was 160 and I was sweating.  But I stayed on the treadmill for 20+ minutes before my legs went numb and I had to stop.  Then I moved onto the hand bike for upper body workout.  I managed to do almost 20 min on that, but the trainer wanted me to aim for 100 rpm.  I averaged 78rpm.  I wonder if this is due to being out of shape or due to me having CNS deficits.  I felt as though I COULD go faster but my body was refusing.  We shall see how many rpm I can do by the end of the week.  Also, my hands and forearms went numb doing the hand bike.....I wonder if that means anything?  It is added to my pool of data I will pull from later on to check progress.

So I did 20 min each of upper and lower body cardio.  Not bad for how out of shape I am, I suppose.  Moving on to the machines....

take THAT, Mistah J!

I did 30 min of upper and lower body strength training on the machines.  I probably hopped on each machine for 5-8 minutes and did 4 sets of 10 - 25 reps each (depending on speed and stress).  I made sure that I was almost unable to do the last two or three reps, to show that I was pushing myself to the brink of failure.

I forgot completely about stretching all the ways he had me stretch.  FUCK.  I knew I was missing something.  And I skipped the leg press because it's on the floor and I can't get up without help....or looking like an idiot.

I also had to forgo the crossfit training, as there was someone on the machine being trained the entire time I was at the gym.  However, that leaves me some workouts to do tomorrow when I go back.

My favorite machine is one that strengthens my core.  It also stretches out my lower back muscles, which spasm when I walk.  I am hoping this machine can help me feel better on a daily basis, and allow me once again to carry laundry baskets and trash without crippling pain.  My least favorite machine is the one that stretches my quads.  Ow.  With the crepidice in my knees from osteoarthritis, it is a necessary but evil machine.

Now that I am home, I need to help the kids clean their rooms and vacuum my own room.  And kick their ass into homework gear.  I'll write more later this week, maybe after the bariatric doctor appointment on Thursday.

I'm Just Fat

WOW I have never been so OUT of SHAPE in my LIFE.  I mean, ROUND is a shape, but I am rather bumpy and not altogether round...and I don't have 'sides' like a polygon.....so perhaps I am just Fat Girl Shaped.  Meh.

I got a good old fashioned Capricorn Bug up my Butt this past week and I have decided that I am joining a gym.  I see the bariatric surgeon for a diet plan on the 15th, and I want to get a jump start on the exercise.  So I went to a couple of gyms and ended up choosing the 24 Hour Fitness Sport that is under a mile from my house.  I am about to get into my whole life's worth of attempted weight loss, so you will understand that I am ultimately serious when I say that I am out of shape.  Very out of shape.  As in I can't keep up a 2.7 mile/hour hoofing on a level 7 inclined treadmill for more than a minute without my heart rate shooting up to the 160s.  I used to have to work out hard for 15 min before I saw the 160s.  UGH. 

My trainer, David, is adorable.  He is 25 and very fit.  He has a body fat of probably 15%, and these friendly blue eyes.  And he used to be a bodybuilder.  He showed me a pic of what he used to look like and I almost pissed myself.  But he doesn't 'get' being fat.  He went through all the machines and showed me how to do all the exercises that he recommends, and during the cool down stretches he was baffled that I was too fat to bring my knees all the way to my chest.  Maybe if the procedure works and I get skinny, I will be a personal trainer strictly for the obese.  Sheesh.  But seriously.  *SWOON* when it comes to David.  Don't worry, everyone, he's married......so he's safe from my bubbly flirtatiousness. Bwahaha.

So I guess here I go with my own personal weight loss journey that has thusfar ended in utter failures.  Keep in mind, though, that I am a pretty evenly keeled individual, and failure for me is just another word for learning something new.  I like to say, 'I'm no bitch, I'm a scientist!' meaning that I don't freak out when I fail.  I simply readjust my calculations and move ever forward.  So please don't tell me to 'stay positive!' because I am already positive.  I do appreciate the support, though, so feel free to encourage me any way you feel.

PUBERTY

Wow.  I am putting in headings.  I feel like it should be read the same way as the chick does in 'The Vagina Monologues'....

I honestly don't remember when I got my first period.  I am pretty sure I was 13 and I am pretty sure I was terrified that Mother would find out and be disappointed in me.  Or, worse, happy for me.  I never wanted to get a period and I felt as though it was a punishment.  Especially since I now had these fatty triangle shaped things hanging from my chest that required a bra.  From what I remember, I was a pretty active kid.  Basketball, swimming lessons, and softball took up the school years.  And hiking up Rattlesnake Hill and playing on the sandstone sculptures took up the summers, when I wasn't playing Cheerleader or Unicorns in the back yard.  I remember that was when I began to gain weight because I would do something like the Truffle Shuffle for my sisters - I would pull up my shirt and wiggle my flab around.  My little sisters would laugh their skinny butts off.

I knew something was odd with me because I didn't have a normal period.  I didn't bleed 5 days out of the month.  I bled all month, then had a couple days without hemorrhage.  Mother told me to mark the days I bled on the calendar and so I did.....and although the proof was there, I honestly didn't think Mother would believe that I was hemorrhaging so badly.  Somehow I told her and she believed me, though, because she took me to the doctor.  And after a couple of years of them waffling about and saying I needed to stop eating so much....an endocrinologist.  I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome.  Which, oddly enough, is only occasionally characterized by actually having cysts on the ovaries.  I was told that I would have trouble losing weight, but I could lose weight with lots of effort and support.  So I was placed on Oral Contraceptive Pills and sent to a nutritionist.

The nutritionist had me write down what I was eating and when, and it ended up that I wasn't overeating.  So Mother took me to Weight Watchers.  You know how embarassing it is to go to Weight Watchers at 16?  I think we went to two meetings and then scrapped the idea.  I was an active kid who didn't overeat.  We decided to just see what happened.

HIGH SCHOOL

I have to say, I had the best friends in high school.  I was part of a loving group of people who didn't ever seem to care that I was the biggest person in the group.  At this point, I was over 200 lbs and still active as ever.  I was in the marching band, pep band, cross country, and both of my elective classes for gym were aerobics.  So five days a week, I wasn't only marching 8-to-5 on the football field before school, but I was doing 45 min of aerobics at the end of the day.  And then I would manage the cross country team and walk over a mile home.  I was in excellent shape, and still 214lbs.

GRADUATION

After graduating high school, I no longer had an outlet for energy and I got a little lazy.  Mother offered to get me a gym membership to a women's only gym called ShapeMakers when I was 19-20.  I don't remember a lot about that gym except there wasn't a lot of equipment, and the aerobics classes were fun.  After 8 months of that, though, I hadn't lost any weight and I quit.  I was becoming frustrated with the stubbornness of my condition.  I was about 220 lbs.

MY TWENTIES

From age 20-23, I didn't do a whole lot, though for a short stint in college I ordered some weight loss pills from a late night tv ad and they worked (I lost 10 lbs in a month).  But then I spilled them and they crumbled and I couldn't remember where I had gotten them.  So I was back to square one (I think they ended up being dangerous and pulled from the market haha).  I was focusing on my career as an EMT, then as a Veterinary Technician.  I went through times when I was eating right and then times I was eating wrong.  But when I moved to the Seattle area at the age of 23, I decided I was going to Kick Butt and Lose Weight.  I had become about 260 lbs at that point, gaining 40 lbs in 3 years or so.  I spoke to my doctor, who put me on the South Beach Diet before it was known as the South Beach Diet.  She explained that it would 'shock my metabolism' into losing weight and even I could lose up to 20 lbs in the first two weeks.  I was so excited.  I cut out all grains and carbs and stuck to my guns for 6 straight weeks.  At the time, I also had a wild and crazy dog I would take to the 100 acre dog park in Redmond, WA, and the local Clark Lake in Kent, WA.  So I remained an active individual.  I continued to lose no weight.  The end of the six weeks was Thanksgiving.  I decided to say, 'fuck it!' and I ate a normal Thanksgiving meal.  Bread stuffing and all!  It.  Was.  Delicious.

Four weeks later or so, on Christmas Eve, I found out I was pregnant.  Turns out it was the diet that balanced my hormones into being fertile.  Go me!! (Go us? The Man didn't do the diet with me...but he was a part of the baby making)

My 24th year went by with me simply being pregnant, doing prenatal yoga, and vomiting a lot while I was pregnant.  I initially lost 20 lbs just from pregnancy-induced-bulemia, then gained it back and then some while my baby grew.  When I had my first child, I was 270 or so.  After he was born, I breastfed, which is supposed to be excellent for weight loss.  Turns out my freaking BOOBS don't work.  By 4 months of age, my son was practically emaciated and we gave supplemental formula.  So I didn't even get breastfeeding benefits.  And I tried all the stuff that was thrown at me - reglan, mother's milk tea, dark/stout beer, brewer's yeast, etc. 

In my 25th year, I went on the South Beach Diet with the Man and my mother and father.  the Man lost 14 lbs, Mother lost 12, and my dad also lost 12.  In the first two weeks of Phase One.  I lost nothing.  Oh, and two months later I found out I was pregnant again.  D'OH!  I did the same thing with this pregnancy, only with major depression.  Yoga, eating right, and attempted breastfeeding.  My boobs don't work for anyone.  By now, I have PPD.  Bad.  THe Man was a major help because I was so scared I would do something like drown the baby in the bath tub, so he gave the baby all his baths.  But with the depression came anxiety.  And it took me over a year to move past it.  I believe the baby was 2 by the time I was satisfactorily past the major depression.

Between 26-30, I read all the articles about people who 'simply' did small things that ended up helping them.  And I tried it.  I decreased portion sizes.  I walked everywhere.  I did standing push-ups against the counter as I waited for the whole grain toast in the toaster, I parked at the back of the lot, I went to the mall just to walk around.....and when I turned 30, I was 290 lbs.

MY THIRTIES....NOW.... 

A few months before i turned 30, I decided to Eat Right again.  I was an adult now, after all, and I needed to Finally Lose The Weight.  I had been researching the LapBand and Gastric Bypass procedures and decided they were too risky to consider.  Besides, I hadn't lost weight yet with just diet control alone, nor had I lost weight with exercise and diet, so I didn't want to Fail.  I decided to eat a LapBand-esque diet.  No/Low bread and carbs, high protein, extremely small and well-chewed portions.  The Man also signed the family up for a YMCA membership, so I was working out a few times a week.  I did this for two months from the first of November-December.  In January, I approached my Primary Care Physician and said I wanted to do a doctor supervised diet and exercise plan. 

My doctor said that, if I don't lose a pound a week, I am doing something wrong.  If that's the case, change it up.  So I did.  From january through April, I was at the gym 5 days a week, a minimum of an hour a day.  Cardio and weights.  Diet wise, if I didn't lose a pound a week, I was switching up.  I did five 300 calorie meals a day, i did low carb, I did high carb, I did protein only, three 500 calorie meals a day, four 400 calorie meals a day.....etc.  I even did some serious calorie cycling where I would eat 1000 calories one day and 2000 the next, then 700, then 1500, etc.  At the end of this 6 month spiel, I had only lost 10 lbs.  At this rate, it would take me 6-10 years of hard work and exercise to possibly reach my goal weight.  I was depressed and heavily discouraged.  I had just begun teaching in addition to working at the ER, and I had fewer hours in the day in which to work out.  So I stopped going 5 days a week.  And a few months later, I quit entirely.  My work took up 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  I hardly slept and I sent The Man and the kids away nightly so I would be able to focus on lecture writing.

Later that year, I was diagnosed with major depression and generalized anxiety disorder.  I was put on medications that cause weight gain to balance my brain chemistry.  How fun.  Oh, yes, and a year later we made a major move to Houston.

Two years ago, almost exactly, I won a contest.  I was going to be given a free 12 week spot with Quick Weight Loss Centers.  I would be given all of the support from the counselors as well as all of the supplements and foods for free.  How awesome is that?  This was THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS WORTH of stuff given to me.  for FREE.  At 320lbs, THIS was my chance.  And I was going to make it work!  Within the first week of taking approximately 12 pills a day, with three meals and two snacks, I had lost 12 lbs.  WOW.  Now THIS is results!!  And then I began to vomit.  A lot.  And always right after I ate.  For two or three weeks, I vomited violently after I ate anything.  And the thing is, I wasn't hungry.  So I simply stopped eating for two weeks.  I took the supplements with no problem, but no solid or liquid foods.  I would try, once or twice a day, to eat something.  But my body would have none of it.  So I stopped all the supplements and within a week, I was able to eat again.  But I was too scared to try the supplements back one at a time.  The vomiting was very painful and violent, and I wasn't ready to go back to it.  I had fallen so far behind in the contest I was in that I never could have won, and so I bowed out.  I was 308 lbs.

I quickly gained that weight back when I started eating again, and by the time I left my job as a vet tech last August (18 months after QWLC), I was 325 lbs.  I was in a massive funk after leaving my job and becoming a stay at home mom.  I never exercised.  I slept all day, dreaming of work.  Desperate to feel needed and accomplished again.  And my psychiatric counselor recommended I join a study for a new depression drug.  So I did.  And it caused more weight gain.  I am now 350lbs and 35 years old. 

CONCLUSION

I seem to have a habit of changing my entire lifestyle to lose weight and then, when no results are seen in a sufficient amount of time, I give up.  I don't give up because I don't enjoy exercise.  I don't give up because I have no willpower.  I give up out of sheer desperation and disappointment.  My body holds onto fat like teflon to a pan.