I'm So-o-o-o Embarrassed

This will make you laugh.  It is embarrassing but it is funny.  In my previous post I talked about starving, dying etc.  Well, it is not strictly true anymore.  Now remember that I have a brain injury (that old chestnut) and am approaching the age of menopause and am a busy mum with lots on my plate, so to speak, pun intended.  Let's not consider the fact that I might be a goose, a dimwit, a total lame brain.  Let's just leave the name calling aside and blame my age or brain or motherhood.

This afternoon I phoned the day surgery about my colonoscopy tomorrow to confirm a time as you do.  Luckily it was before I took the first Drano solution to empty out my digestive tract.  It appears I read the date wrong and my procedure is not until the beginning of next month.  Oops.  All that complaining, all that suffering, all that clear liquid and it was for naught.  And, I gotta' do it again next month.  Wow.

But what really has me tossing down the chocolate biscuits is when I phoned the Lovely Husband (and I use the term loosely) to tell him of my mistake he turns around and proceeds to share with his workmates, all of them.  Oh how funny it was, he thought.  Then, I say, then, he tells them about how about two weeks ago I was bitching and complaining about my relatively new mobile phone not working, not charging and I was going to deal with the stupid phone company, the stupid contract I was locked in, the stupid charger.  Except when I went to unplug it, I saw that I had not actually turned it on at the power point.  Duhh!  Needless to say, the phone is fine, the phone company unharmed and the charger functioning normally.  Unlike my head.  Sigh.

Must go eat now, I have some serious catching up to do.  It will not consist of jelly, clear soup or yet more water.

I'm Star-r-r-rving

OK, I am about to share more than I would usually but I need the distraction.  Just warning you.

Tomorrow I am having a colonoscopy.  Yep, one of those lovelies.  So yesterday I had to not eat fruit, fibre, veggies, red meat etc.  I could have low fat dairy and lean white meat.  That's alright.  I can cope. 

Today, I am allowed no solids, no milk products, no food!  I am allowed clear liquids eg. clear juices, jelly, strained chicken noodle soup.  That sort of thing.  Holy Crap! (Get it?)  Food is so-o-o important to me.  This is killing me.  (Slight exaggeration, only slight).

This afternoon I have to consume some stuff, some dosed water, some chemical that will empty my bowel like a good dose of salmonella poisoning, like an Enyo cloth for the inside, like a fire hose has been shoved down my throat and will straighten out my small and large intestines.  (Again, I don't exaggerate greatly).  Holy, holy CRAP!

Help. 

Tomorrow, I have to have nothing four hours before procedure.  I think I have said it all.  My life is HELL.  Hell I tell you.  Of course, this comes from a spoilt woman who considers food to be the staple of her life (funny about that). 

I will survive.  I am a survivor.  I didn't say I wasn't a whinger.  I also didn't say I don't feel sorry for myself.  I certainly would never say I enjoy starving to death.  But I do like a good exaggeration.

Greyhound Run

Imagine the theme music for the old 6 million dollar man TV show

Our Layla Greyhound is a failed racer.  She was washed up at the age of 3.  When we first got her she did not like walking on the grass very much.  In the paddocks she would follow the cattle paths and avoid "nature" at all costs.  Now at the age of 9 she is a happy farm dog who dislikes walking on the road.  Paddocks are her preference and rabbits are her focus.

We have had a lot of rain recently and the dogs have not had the walks they usually get.  Cabin fever has affected us all but none more than Roger our Cyclone Staffy.  So, in a recent break in the weather I took both dogs for a run in the paddock.  Layla was seen to run off into the long grass after what I assume was a rabbit.  She met met at the top of the hill, puffed but happy.  On the way down the hill she and I saw another rabbit.  Only this time there was sheep fencing between her and her quarry.  Still, it made for a fun chase up and down said fence.  Before we reached the foot of the hill she took chase yet again only this time the grass was longer and thicker in patches.  My brindle greyhound was seen doing Bambi like romping in and out of the long grass, ears erect and eyes alert.  She leaped around for some time and was very entertaining.  Just a note here, she has not managed to catch any rabbits, hence her probable failure on the race track.

Back at the house Layla looked like heart attack material.  She was so puffed she was almost wheezing.  Her poor old chest was heaving air into her lungs and her tongue was about as wide as it could get.  But, for a rescue dog who was brought up in a cage and was not used to grass, this is fantastic to see her so happy in her half dead state.  What a way to go eh?

The Unemployed Teenager

The Young Negotiator is 18 and out of school for good.  He knows not what he wants to do with his life.  For now he needs a job, a paying job so he can live, spend, have fun and think about his future.  I have noticed the teenagers in this predicament all think they will get that job and be done with it.  We do not live near a big city.  There are many, many teenagers who left school and are looking for work, untrained and inexperienced teenagers.  Their confidence was admirable but now reality is sinking in and there are many, many unemployed teenagers.

 My answer?  Volunteer!  The Young Negotiator was told if he did not find paying work he would be doing volunteer work for charity.  He has his casual job with a large chain supermarket but the shifts are few and far between.  But three days a week he has work, two days in one Opportunity Shop and one day in another.  It took some encouragement (pushing) but it is working quite well.  In the two day a week job he is actually being trained in retail and they are very happy with him and his attitude.  They often get young people 'volunteering' because they want to continue to receive govt. benefits or for community service and their attitude can be less than enthusiastic apparently.  The Supervisors think him marvellous for volunteering (he failed to mention his pushy mother) and his confidence is building.  Even the Young Negotiator can see the benefits now.  In the one day a week Op Shop he is one of three men to go out in the furniture truck picking up and delivering second hand furniture, TVs (the older, far heavier type) and various donated goods.

The Young Negotiator is an Extreme Book Worm, Computer Gaming Freak, Card Playing Jockey.  He does not, in normal circumstances, move furniture/TVs.  This experience has been an eye opener for the skin and bones we call our son.

First Week:
"I really think they need to update their OH & S information Mum.  That stuff is heavy!" 
I remain outwardly neutral.  Inwardly I giggle at the thought of my poor young man doing hard work.

Second Week:
"I'm exhausted.  I don't know if I will keep this up.  There are some people working there who don't want to be there.  It is a bit depressing"
Aaah, welcome to the work force sunshine.

Third Week:
"I still don't like it but I think I will stick with it for the moment"
What's that?  A bit of resilience coming through?

Fourth Week:
"Look at my hands, I have calluses!!!"
Mmmm, I had them as a child from riding my bike all day.

The Young Negotiator has decided he does not want to work in the furniture moving industry.

He is learning and even admits, after direct questioning (the only way to get information), that it is a good thing.  He can definitely see the benefits and has improved his resume and his references with this experience.

I love that kid and he cracks me up but the Young Negotiator will survive the work force with a new appreciation of how lucky he is, how to get along with all kinds of people and that experience matters and calluses are not the end of the world as we know it.

Fish Oil for Dogs

I have discovered something that calms my cyclone-on-legs staffy, Roger.  Quite by accident but still, a discovery all the same. 
I take 3g fish oil capsules daily (for my brain apparently), odourless and easy.  Recently I accidentally purchased a large container of fish oil capsules that were not odourless.  Blechhh! Unable to cope I decided to give them to Roger, who has skin issues.  I had been giving him 1500mg/day for two weeks and he seemed fine (at home he is quite well behaved and calm) and then being due for a vaccination I took him to the vet.  Unfortunately it was a very hot day so, instead of being relegated to the back of the station wagon he got to travel on the back seat in air conditioned comfort.  He was very quiet and well behaved, a little strange but not incredible. 
At the vet, Roger is normally quite cyclonic/mad/loud/strong, all in good humour of course.  He was not on this occasion.  He was calm and well behaved, very strange.  In the examination he was happy but again well behaved.  His temperature, heart rate, everything was normal and he had his vaccination.  Normally his temp is slightly raised (from his excitement) and probably his heart rate.   Are you sure he is OK? I say to the vet.

While waiting to pay my million dollars for his consultation he again was calm and well behaved.  Normally if other dogs come in he goes into excitement overdrive and barks, growls, pulls my shoulder from its socket and generally makes a nuisance of himself.  When the nurse who served me realised he was present she was aghast.  Is Roger here?  She says while leaning over the counter to confirm this amazing fact.

On the trip home he again lay quietly on the back seat and had little urinary accidents on our back seat.  OK, I am thinking he has a urinary tract infection.  He is definitely not himself and he never has accidents.


At home he again had a little accident in the house, he has not done that since he was a puppy, but I realised he was unaware of the urine dribbling from his flaccid 'Little Roger'. 

It took me a couple of hours to work it out.  It probably would have occurred to me earlier if I had upped my own fish oil dosage to that of a small elephant but still, it did eventually occur to me that it was the fish oil.  He was so relaxed.  He was focused and did what he was told at the vet - away from his home environment - an absolute miracle.
I did have to take him off the high dose because his little accidents smelled strongly of fish oil and that is just gross.

They say fish oil is good for kids with ADHD and it is recommended for them to focus etc.  Well, I can confirm that it does that for insane staffy dogs.
So I have just commenced him on a 500mg daily dose.  I will take him away from home in two weeks time and see if he has taken this stuff and converted it to normality. 

Ahh, I hear you say, he is who he is.  He is cyclonic but he is lovable and happy.  That is his personality and you should not mess with it.  But I say, WAS IT YOU TOOK HIM TO PUPPY PRE-SCHOOL?  He was by far the most intimidating puppy, naughtiest puppy, the one most likely to be attacked by frightened little fluff balls.  WAS IT YOU TOOK HIM TO GROUP DOGGY TRAINING?  He drove me to ends of my wits.  He was so excited and strong and loud and uncontrollable and, and and... I was physically exhausted at the end of each session and so gave that away as a lost cause.  He can sit and behave at home beautifully but take him away from his own environment or have visitors and he turns into a doggy Mr Hyde, albeit friendlier.

So old Roger is being medicated.  I am messing with his head... but in a good way.  At least I am trying to make him more socially acceptable.  If it does not work then I will accept it.  But if it does then WEEHARRRRR!! I will be able to take him out in public, he won't want to kill dogs at the beach, frighten little old ladies into their wheelie walker, take skin off unsuspecting innocent children when he jumps on them to tell them he loves them.  Ahhh the possibilities...