Fixation

PLUS



EQUALS

Batscat effing crazy.

Have you seen the movie Spanglish? When Paz Vega (aka Flor) accepts the housekeeping job at Tea Leone and Adam Sandler's house, one of the first things things they tell her is NOT to throw the tennis ball to the sweet little golden retriever. In my younger, more naive years (circa 2004), I considered this film a cinematic hyperbole for a dog's enthusiasm for play. Wrong. So freaking wrong.

I know now that the Spanglish dog was really just a precursor for how my life would play out a mere five years later.

In the past week and a half, Darby has found the tennis ball. In fact, she found an entire can--FOUR tennis balls. And watch out. If you can't fully commit to the game of fetch, I suggest you ignore her from the moment you see her mouthfull of slobbery green fuzz. Because she can play for hours. It doesn't matter what you're doing, where you are, or what time of day it is. When Darby wants to play with her tennis ball, she's gonna play with her tennis ball--and she'd really like your active participation in her game. Really. And she doesn't mind telling you so.

Last Saturday morning, for example, I was enjoying a lovely morning slumber undisturbed by the weekday alarm clock. Half asleep, I felt something strange along my side. Thud... damp nudge... squish. Drop the ball. Nudge the arm with the cold wet nose. Pick up the ball and chew. Repeat. Drop the ball. Nudge the arm with the cold wet nose. Pick up the ball and chew. Repeat. I could go on and on, but I think you see where I'm going.

Clearly my dog's low platelet counts (and yes, they're still low--as confirmed by the vet this weekend--damn the cursed medical mysteries at Casa Skjold) have hurled her over the edge of sanity, where she has been teetering for dog years.

Evidently it CAN be Done…

So last weekend was the big camping trip I mentioned being nervous about in a few posts. It’s not so much the camping that worried me, but rather the camping with perishable meds.

Fortunately, the stars were aligned, and the weather worked in my favor. It was perfect. Warm (but not too warm) during the day, and cool (but not too cool) at night. The cooler stayed cold, the medication stayed cool (without freezing), and I was able to inject myself (albeit not in the most sterile of conditions) without issue.

Had it been a really hot weekend, it may not have been quite so smooth. But under the circumstances it was a piece of cake. Which means I was able to put my mind at ease and enjoy the weekend. Here’s some photographic evidence to support that claim…


We had delicious steak with wine sauce and melted gorgonzola cheese the first night, complete with roasted corn. Holy crap was THAT delicious...


On this trip I was also reminded of the lost art of Jiffy Pop. And Uno. Awesome.














And of course, the true sign of a good vacation is a pair of happy and exhausted dogs.

And on that note, I leave you with a picture of the sunset as seen from our campsite--and a recommendation for Lake Maria State Park in Monticello any time you need a quick getaway.

Oops I did it again...

Misfire. Gah! For those of you keeping track, that's twice.

Anyone know what happens when a dog licks Glatiramer Acetate (aka Copaxone) off the floor? Huh. Guess we'll see...

Gainfully Employed

After more than a few questionable reactions to everyday situations, Randy's intense rehabilitation program is underway. Part of this initiative is to aclimate him into mainstream society.

Step one of this process was to arm him with a shock collar (if I had more readers, I would anticipate many angry comments to this controversial approach--thank goodness for obscurity!). Despite the negative implications of the shock collar, it is helping Randy to make progress when none of the positive reinforcement techniques we have employed have worked. And frankly, I didn't have a lot of viable options.

Step two is to get him fixed up as a workin' dog.



As you can see, he has been outfitted and is ready to go. In the very near future, he will be tested as a leader (and dog-food carrier) in outdoor survival situations (okay, survival may be pushing it--but we WILL be "roughing it" without electricity).

If all goes well, I'm hoping to get him living independently in a nice home in the suburbs to live out his remaining years. Fingers crossed...

P.S. While Randy may be geared up and ready to head into the great outdoors, for me--not so much. Still pondering my approach to safely storing my meds... more to come on that when I figure out what the heck I'm doing.

Hedonism

RIP, beautiful cicadas found dead in a compromising position on my patio. RIP.

Some Updates (Long Overdue)

I was taking a stroll down memory lane, reading some old posts, when I realized that I am long overdue on a few very important updates. So here goes:

1. As best I can tell (not being a vet or anything), Darby is recovering wonderfully. The nasty rash (which it turns out was spotty full-body bruising) has disappeared, and the antibiotic/steroid cocktail she is on seems to be working. Many (many) (MANY) dollars in, I still don't know the cause of her low platelet counts--and I won't go into how ridiculous some of the shenanigans at my vet clinic have been throughout this process--but at this point I'm taking a positive approach and assuming her innards are healing up right nice. I hope so, because damn--she's a good dog.

2. My follow-up visit to DSO was officially the most boring doctor's appointment I have had in at least a year, probably longer. Yup, treatment is going well. Nope, no new symptoms. Blah, blah, blah--boredom is bliss. Rock it out, Copaxone... if you and I get along like I think we will, there may not be any more of those pricey and cumbersome MRIs in my future (at least not for the next year).

3. I completed and submitted paperwork for the Shared Solutions discount program. Once approved, Shared Solutions will cover 85% (give or take some percentages--math is not my strong suit) of my co-pay, leaving me to pay only a pittance for my daily treatment. I wanted to be sure to include this mention in my blog in case someone who is just starting treatment on Copaxone stumbles across this. So someone, if you're reading this, take note: Ask Shared Solutions about their Discount Program. It certainly helps!

4. I'm making nearly as much progress on T09CP as I am in the frequency of my blog postings. Translation: It looks pretty much like it did in the pictures I took when I started (okay, maybe a teensy bit better, but not much). Bees (SO many bees), rain (long overdue), summer social calendars, and a tiny touch of laziness have significantly slowed my progress. And do you realize it's nearly September? That means it could snow here. Literally. Almost any day now. *sigh* Making a mental note to at least get a coat of primer on before hunkering down for the long cold winter...

I'm aware of the fact that there are many other updates I owe this blog, but I think I'll wrap this up for today in an effort to avoid boring my devoted readers to tears. If only for today...

It was Bound to Happen Sooner or Later

Today’s injection was scheduled to be administered on the right arm. I dove into the routine like any other day… clean the area with an alcohol wipe, disassemble the AutoJect device, load the medicine and re-assemble. I located the injection site, lined up the AutoJect, and snapped the trigger. Pop! And… nothing. I couldn’t believe it. For the first time since starting the injections, I had found a magical spot where the needle didn’t hurt—at all! I reveled in the lack of pain for the full 10 seconds of the injection. I took a mental note to remember the exact location this injection went in so I could use it again and again and again.

I gently pulled the AutoJect away from my skin, expecting a tiny poke of pain as the needle left my arm.

Instead, a small gush of Glatiramer Acetate (aka Copaxone) poured out of the end of the injection device and onto the floor. What? I looked back at the tip of the AutoJect and realized I had made a rookie mistake. I forgot to remove the cap removal thingy, so I shot nearly $100 of Copaxone into the needle cap and onto a pool on the floor.



Nice.