I know I owe y'all updates from Dover and Kansas Speedway, but today is National Coming Out Day, so I want to focus today's blog post on that instead.
Most of you know that I identify as bisexual. What a lot of you don't know is my journey. In recognition of NCOD, I wanted to take some time to document that. Usually on this day, I make a list of all of the things I am (a domestic violence survivor, a rape/incest survivor, a queer, etc.), but this seems more important, especially given recent current events in this country.
Whenever my friends and I play "first tv crush," mine is always Jo from "The Facts of Life," played by Nancy McKeon. She was attractive, she was tough, and she worked on cars (what more could I ask for?) Meanwhile, all of my female friends in school were crushing on Ricky Schroder and Kirk Cameron. Hmmm. One of these things is not like the other.
Throughout school, there were guys who I was interested in (I distinctly remember getting yelled at for kissing Mike G's arm on a field trip), and my mom was convinced that Scott from across the street and I would get married some day since we hung out all the time and seemed pretty inseparable for a couple of years.
Meanwhile, there were still girls and female celebrities that caught my eye. Confusing.
One night, I was at my grandma's house and we were watching "The Women of Brewster Place," and the old man accused two women of being lesbians. I asked grandma what lesbians are, and she replied curtly and with disdain, "It's two women who love each other." "Oh! So you and mom are lesbians!" "NO. We. Are. Not!" Con-fu-sing!
When I got to undergrad, I started dating guys, so I decided I must be hetero. It's just that I just also appreciated how attractive women are. I mean, there's nothing wrong with that, right? But by the time I moved to Philly and started law school, I decided that I had been wrong all along and I must be a lesbian. I was just way too attracted and interested in women to be straight.
So I started coming out as a lesbian. It didn't go over too well with Mom, so I kind crept back into the closet with her and we just pretended like that day hadn't happened. But my friends rolled with it. I mean, hell - I was at Temple Law School at the time. If liberal law school peeps couldn't handle it, who could? But then it was hard because I was still attracted to guys, and I felt like I was always having to hide that. Or having to keep it a secret that I had dated guys before. Or when talking to lesbians, I'd do the whole, "You know, the guys I dated before I figured it out" thing and we'd laugh and they'd go "Oh yeah, I've been there, too - ha ha ha."
See, I'd only ever heard the term "bisexual" once in my life. It was at an undergrad cast party (one of my minors is in theatre), and it was in context of "I know you're interested in that guy, but you should stay away from him because he's BISEXUAL." I really had no idea what it meant (other than that he had sex with both men and women), but it was clearly BAD and EVIL and something to be avoided at all costs. And if YOU were bisexual, people would want to avoid you, too.
Fast forward several years. I've dropped out of law school, I'm miserable because I'm a Southern Baptist-raised girl whose lesbian-identified but really like guys and is convinced she's going to Hell either way, since God only wants straight people in Heaven. Enter a wonderful therapist, stage right. We got the religious issue righted pretty quickly, but then we focused on the sexual orientation issue since that one was more frustrating, confusing, and persistent. She suggested that I may be bisexual. I suggested she was insane. She asked me if I knew what bisexuality was. I told her not really, but I knew it wasn't anything I was. She told me when I was ready to discuss it, I should let her know.
Eventually, through a lot of talking with her and with some really great friends, I came to understand what bisexuality is, and I understood that I am, in fact, bisexual.
I have since come out to the people who are most important to me in my life as bi. And that is my coming out story.
A slight aside: For anyone who has yet to visit the "It Gets Better" project started by Dan Savage to encourage LGBTQ youth after the recent suicides of several teens who were the victims of homophobia (why are bullshitting ourselves and calling it "bullying"?), go be inspired here.
11 October 2010
06 September 2010
Baby Cardigan Craze!
Now that both gift recipients have received their gifts, I can safely post this. To be fair, I don't think either of them are regular readers of my blog, but just to be on the safe side, I'd hate to have the surprise spoiled.
Both of these friends were classmates of mine in my master's programme, and I was really happy for them when I found out they were expecting babies this year. I know they'll make excellent parents, and I hope I get the meet the recent additions some day. The chances of meeting Lilliam's daughter are much greater since she lives in Philly, but since Ferdman now lives in Las Vegas where he's hard at work studying to be a doctor, I'm not sure when I'll get to meet his daughter.
The cardigan I did for both baby girls was the same pattern, but I did them in different fibres. Lilliam's girl got a 100% cotton cardigan (Blue Sky Skinny Cotton in pink), while Ferdman's girl got a superwash wool (Lorna's Laces in Douglas Fir). Both yarns were acquired at Loop, as were the buttons for both cardigans.
The pattern is the Peaches and Cream Cardigan by Sandy Scoville, which was.. okay. I made several changes to the pattern as written because I found the pattern cumbersome. It wanted me to pick up stitches from the side and start the sleeve, but I decided to do the sleeves and them just seam the on. There were also several errors in the pattern, such as how many stitches to cast on and which rows to repeat. I also found the wording for the shaping to be unnecessarily clumsy.
Despite all this, I'm quite pleased with the results.
The cardigan I did for both baby girls was the same pattern, but I did them in different fibres. Lilliam's girl got a 100% cotton cardigan (Blue Sky Skinny Cotton in pink), while Ferdman's girl got a superwash wool (Lorna's Laces in Douglas Fir). Both yarns were acquired at Loop, as were the buttons for both cardigans.
The pattern is the Peaches and Cream Cardigan by Sandy Scoville, which was.. okay. I made several changes to the pattern as written because I found the pattern cumbersome. It wanted me to pick up stitches from the side and start the sleeve, but I decided to do the sleeves and them just seam the on. There were also several errors in the pattern, such as how many stitches to cast on and which rows to repeat. I also found the wording for the shaping to be unnecessarily clumsy.
Despite all this, I'm quite pleased with the results.
03 September 2010
Health Update (again)
I saw the PM&R specialist again yesterday (aka: the hip doctor). He's the guy who told me over the phone that I had managed to tear some cartilage in my hip joint. Well, in person, apparently, you get MUCH more information. In addition to the torn hip cartilage, I also have a retroverted femoral head. This means that the ball part of the ball-and-socket hip joint is torqued back out of the joint. In my case, it's not completely out of the joint, which is why I can still walk, climb stairs, etc., but it's why I have a lot of pain, I can hear a "click" every time I take a step, and why I have to be careful with how I move (such as getting into/out of cars certain ways).
Based on his physical examination (which consists of him moving my leg in painful ways and then asking "Does that hurt?" Oh, really? You couldn't tell by the way I just grimaced and yelled "Yaaah!!"), he's also not convinced that I might not have a slight hernia or a pulled/strained abdominal muscle. Keep in mind that this is all the same issue that started in early November. Yes, that's right - ten months ago now that I've been in pain and have had limited range of motion (ROM) of my left hip. It's awesome.
So we're going to try four weeks of physiotherapy. He's officially recommending three times a week, but he's mindful of my unemployment situation and said that he feels I'm intelligent enough (ha!) to go in once a week, learn the exercises, and do them at home the rest of the week. And the idea is that every week the exercises will increase my ROM and decrease the pain. If it doesn't, he wants to do another MRI to look for a hernia or abdominal issue. At that time, we'll also consider steroid injections.
My PCP and I discussed this, and we decided to hold off on the second opinion (from an orthopod), which we had been leaning toward since the PM&R doctor had seemed kind of lackadaisical the last time I had spoken to him on the telephone. But now that he seems to have a more specific plan and has given me more information, we feel more confident with him.
My PCP asked me what his plan was in the event that I have a hernia, and I told her that I hadn't asked. She told me that I'm most likely looking at surgery. Awesome. Can't wait.
But the best part of the exam? When I was lying on the table, face up, fully-clothed, he's pressing on me (just above my groin), and says, "Bear down as if you're having a bowel movement, BUT DON'T ACTUALLY HAVE ONE!!!" (Yes, he actually said that last part with urgency in his voice.) And it made me wonder what had happened that made him learn to add that part with such urgency in his voice. I mean, believe me when I tell you that I certainly had no plans on having a bowel movement in his office, in my clothes, with both him and his resident staring at me. But I fully believe that someone else must have in the past, yes?
Based on his physical examination (which consists of him moving my leg in painful ways and then asking "Does that hurt?" Oh, really? You couldn't tell by the way I just grimaced and yelled "Yaaah!!"), he's also not convinced that I might not have a slight hernia or a pulled/strained abdominal muscle. Keep in mind that this is all the same issue that started in early November. Yes, that's right - ten months ago now that I've been in pain and have had limited range of motion (ROM) of my left hip. It's awesome.
So we're going to try four weeks of physiotherapy. He's officially recommending three times a week, but he's mindful of my unemployment situation and said that he feels I'm intelligent enough (ha!) to go in once a week, learn the exercises, and do them at home the rest of the week. And the idea is that every week the exercises will increase my ROM and decrease the pain. If it doesn't, he wants to do another MRI to look for a hernia or abdominal issue. At that time, we'll also consider steroid injections.
My PCP and I discussed this, and we decided to hold off on the second opinion (from an orthopod), which we had been leaning toward since the PM&R doctor had seemed kind of lackadaisical the last time I had spoken to him on the telephone. But now that he seems to have a more specific plan and has given me more information, we feel more confident with him.
My PCP asked me what his plan was in the event that I have a hernia, and I told her that I hadn't asked. She told me that I'm most likely looking at surgery. Awesome. Can't wait.
But the best part of the exam? When I was lying on the table, face up, fully-clothed, he's pressing on me (just above my groin), and says, "Bear down as if you're having a bowel movement, BUT DON'T ACTUALLY HAVE ONE!!!" (Yes, he actually said that last part with urgency in his voice.) And it made me wonder what had happened that made him learn to add that part with such urgency in his voice. I mean, believe me when I tell you that I certainly had no plans on having a bowel movement in his office, in my clothes, with both him and his resident staring at me. But I fully believe that someone else must have in the past, yes?
20 August 2010
DrPH News
On Wednesday, I officially got news that my application for the DrPH programme for which I had applied was rejected. I think it was nice of them to let me know a full 34 days before classes were to have started. But the chair of the programme did handwrite a note of the bottom of the form rejection letter that reads "please call me if you'd like to discuss," and a neighbour of mine who's a professor told me this is a VERY encouraging sign.
Thank you to those of you who supported me through the roller-coaster of emotions this summer while I waited.
And now that I know that I won't be attending school, I'll start the job search in earnest. I had been hesitant to do so because I didn't want to start a job only to tell them that I had to leave because I found out that I was beginning school. And then, a few years later, have a bad reputation in the public health community for having shafted XYZ organisation.
So, now that my days are unscheduled for the next however long, I have contacted Michael Waltrip Racing (you may remember that I won a RaceDay Experience when I was in North Carolina) to claim tickets to the Dover race. Mom is going to fly out here, and we will go to that race together. Then we will fly to Kansas City together to attend the Kansas race together (those races are back-to-back weekends.
It's been a banner year: I lost a job, lost Oscar, got rejected from a school, and for those of you especially close to me, you know about The Big Drama going on this week that I won't be blogging about for matters of personal security.
Thank you to those of you who supported me through the roller-coaster of emotions this summer while I waited.
And now that I know that I won't be attending school, I'll start the job search in earnest. I had been hesitant to do so because I didn't want to start a job only to tell them that I had to leave because I found out that I was beginning school. And then, a few years later, have a bad reputation in the public health community for having shafted XYZ organisation.
So, now that my days are unscheduled for the next however long, I have contacted Michael Waltrip Racing (you may remember that I won a RaceDay Experience when I was in North Carolina) to claim tickets to the Dover race. Mom is going to fly out here, and we will go to that race together. Then we will fly to Kansas City together to attend the Kansas race together (those races are back-to-back weekends.
It's been a banner year: I lost a job, lost Oscar, got rejected from a school, and for those of you especially close to me, you know about The Big Drama going on this week that I won't be blogging about for matters of personal security.
15 August 2010
Bidding Adieu to Kristi
In 2001, I went to an event at the Asian Arts Initiative. At this event, I met a woman whose name I no longer remember. One thing led to another, and this woman eventually asked me if I might be interested in being interviewed by this woman doing her dissertation on Korean-American adoptees and transnational/transractial adoption issues. Sure, why not.
That researcher was Kristi. She called me, we set up an interview. She was nice and interesting. It wasn't one of those "add water, instant friendship" kind of things. But over time, we forged a friendship. I became more involved in her research - sitting through mind-numbing adoption meetings with her, watching videos, and reading adoption propaganda. I went to her dissertation defence. She came to my thesis defence.
She told me just how wrong a certain guy was for me. I avoided her for awhile after that because nobody asked her. And, of course, she was right. I'm comfortable spilling my business on my blog, but not hers, so I'll just say that throughout the years we've talked a LOT about relationships, parenting, politics, careers, feminism, and the intersections of all of those.
Today, we met for about an hour a few hours before she had to be at the airport. Her older daughter Nina was with her, but her younger daughter Iris was getting in some time with her friend. (Kristi's partner Tom is already in Charleston in their new house.) While Kristi and I talked, I let Nina play games on my BlackBerry. "Min, can I play THIS one? How about THIS one? These all CAME on your phone????" Kristi looked at me and said, "See, THIS is why girls need more than one mom in their lives - for the games on their phones."
I'll miss Kristi. She's one of those people who will tell you what you need to hear, whether it's what you WANT to hear. If I'm ever fortunate enough to be a parent, she's the kind of parent I'd want to be - a very "it takes a village" kind of mentality. Her relationship with her partner is one I greatly admire. They take time for themselves, even though they have two daughters who are both active with extra-curriculars. They don't really have "his" friends and "her" friends. They know they don't have a perfect relationship, and they don't pretend to. So they - gasp - communicate with each other about issues.
It's easy to say these days that you'll still keep in touch - email, IM, text, Skype, etc. But she starts her new job (she's a professor) next week, and she'll be getting Nina and Iris settled in their school, helping them meet new friends, hell - she'll need new friends, too! And all of that just isn't the same as dropping in to see the new artwork that the girls have hung on the walls of their art studio, going to their School of Rock concerts, or guest speaking at Kristi's classes.
I didn't take my camera with me today, but here's a picture of Kristi and me from a few years ago, on the day I graduated from Drexel with my MPH. Good luck in Charleston, Kristi!
That researcher was Kristi. She called me, we set up an interview. She was nice and interesting. It wasn't one of those "add water, instant friendship" kind of things. But over time, we forged a friendship. I became more involved in her research - sitting through mind-numbing adoption meetings with her, watching videos, and reading adoption propaganda. I went to her dissertation defence. She came to my thesis defence.
She told me just how wrong a certain guy was for me. I avoided her for awhile after that because nobody asked her. And, of course, she was right. I'm comfortable spilling my business on my blog, but not hers, so I'll just say that throughout the years we've talked a LOT about relationships, parenting, politics, careers, feminism, and the intersections of all of those.
Today, we met for about an hour a few hours before she had to be at the airport. Her older daughter Nina was with her, but her younger daughter Iris was getting in some time with her friend. (Kristi's partner Tom is already in Charleston in their new house.) While Kristi and I talked, I let Nina play games on my BlackBerry. "Min, can I play THIS one? How about THIS one? These all CAME on your phone????" Kristi looked at me and said, "See, THIS is why girls need more than one mom in their lives - for the games on their phones."
I'll miss Kristi. She's one of those people who will tell you what you need to hear, whether it's what you WANT to hear. If I'm ever fortunate enough to be a parent, she's the kind of parent I'd want to be - a very "it takes a village" kind of mentality. Her relationship with her partner is one I greatly admire. They take time for themselves, even though they have two daughters who are both active with extra-curriculars. They don't really have "his" friends and "her" friends. They know they don't have a perfect relationship, and they don't pretend to. So they - gasp - communicate with each other about issues.
It's easy to say these days that you'll still keep in touch - email, IM, text, Skype, etc. But she starts her new job (she's a professor) next week, and she'll be getting Nina and Iris settled in their school, helping them meet new friends, hell - she'll need new friends, too! And all of that just isn't the same as dropping in to see the new artwork that the girls have hung on the walls of their art studio, going to their School of Rock concerts, or guest speaking at Kristi's classes.
I didn't take my camera with me today, but here's a picture of Kristi and me from a few years ago, on the day I graduated from Drexel with my MPH. Good luck in Charleston, Kristi!
 |
| ETA: Original pic deleted when blog was moved. But here's a pic of Kristi from several years ago. |
11 August 2010
State of the Min
The Summer of 2010 has been, well, interesting.
I want to thank everyone for being so supportive while I was mourning the loss of The Ocs. Every once in awhile, at the most unexpected times, I get hit with grief. Like when Med Student (who some of you know as Rachel) and I were eating at the local Vietnamese restaurant and she mentioned that she wished she had been able to have gone to free Goo Goo Dolls concert as part of Philadelphia's Welcome America (Fourth of July) celebration. I burst in tears, and she was like, "What happened? What's going on? What just happened?" When I finally stopped crying, I explained that I had also wanted to go, but that was Oscar's last night with us. And we just sat there, in the middle of the restaurant, holding hands for awhile.
Or the other day when I was talking to Ria and I mentioned my cats. And then I realised that I don't have cats, plural, anymore. And then I called my mom and cried.
I believe I emailed everyone who left a message for me on the blog who also left their email address, and I received a lot of messages on Ravelry that I believe I've also returned, as well. When I started modding the Free Pattern Testers group, I never realised that I'd meet such caring people with so many of their own stories to share, too!
I've also got another really frustrating situation going on right now which has my life in extreme limbo. Some of you know about it, especially local friends. But when I have definitive answers and know the implications of what's going on, I'll spill all.
In other news, I had my regular three-month check-in with my doctor last week. I'm still low in Vitamin D, so she switched me from 3,000 IUs a day to 50,000 IUs a week. And since I've been having very minor right upper-quadrant pain again (very similar to what I was having two years ago when the gall-bladder in-and-out of the hospital fiasco began), she did a bunch of blood tests and gave me an ultrasound order in case the pain gets worse, and I can decide whether I want to go in for the test. If the pain continues, I can make an appointment with my GI specialist, and I'll have the baseline pancreatic enzyme levels and U/S results for him to see.
She's also sending me to an orthopaedic specialist for my torn hip cartilage to get a second opinion since neither of us are particularly pleased with the progress I've been making with the PM&R guy I've been seeing. But first I need to see him one more time to get my MRI results back, my records, etc. And of course, he's on vacation for the next two weeks. Yay.
And the latest (which I made some vague references to on Twitter): Those of you who have ever tried to hang out with me in the summer know I'm terrified of hanging out outdoors. It's not that I'm not an outdoors person - it's that I'm allergic to pretty much every bug ever. If a bug looks at me, I'll get a huge-ass welt that will itch until forever. This past Saturday afternoon, I had what I thought was a bug bite kind of between my breast and my underarm. So I did the usual - took an Allegra (an oral antihistamine) and treated topically with Benadryl cream (also an antihistamine). But still I itched... and itched... and itched.
Until Saturday night around 11:00 p.m. when I called Mom pretty freaked out. My entire underarm area, going up to part of my triceps area was covered in what looked like tiny bug bites. Now, usually if I've just scratched a single bug bite a lot, I'll break out in hives, but my hives will be really large, and I know what they look like. And when I take an Allegra and slather on the Benadryl, it'll take the hives. But I'd been doing that all night, to no avail. So I was pretty freaked out. Mom and I went through all the usual suspects - no new foods, no new clothes, I had gone tromping through the woods, etc.
Sunday morning, when I woke up, the area hadn't spread, but it now looked like one huge rash (and when I say huge, I mean it - but I'll get to that in a minute). Instead of tiny bites, it looked as if my cat Felix had taken a fire engine red paint can and spilled it on me overnight. I blame Ria. She's the only person I know who has regular access to paint cans.
To make a long story short (or is it too late?), I spent the weekend not sleeping from the discomfort. I was very tempted to go to the ER - not because I thought my life was in danger, but I was simply that uncomfortable and unable to sleep. But my ER copay is $75 and a doctor visit only costs $10. And it being the weekend, I knew I'd have to sit for hours to see someone in the ER when they'd do the same thing the doctor would do. So I continued with the Allegra, Benadryl, and I threw in an ice pack every once in awhile (but since I only have one ice pack, that only worked every few hours).
I finally saw a doctor Monday afternoon. He measured the rash for my chart, and it was an impressive 6" x 8" (told you it was huge). He gave me a steroid taper, which I'm VERY familiar with, as someone with moderate-level asthma. He also told me to switch to hydrocortisone cream instead of Benadryl (or to alternate) since the Benadryl wasn't being effective for me. And to continue with the ice pack. I told him the biggest problem was just that I was "very uncomfortable," and he laughed a bit wryly and said, "I would imagine, from how red and how large that is, that would be the understatement of the year, my dear."
It's getting a little better every day, but that could just be because Fe got some paint eraser from Ria. I'm not sure. Mostly I'm happy that I can read and knit again. Not being able to use my right arm at all for those few days was a killer. While I'm ambidextrous and could use my left hand to eat and write, not being able to use my arm was interesting. (I had to keep it still because if I held it down, the affected upper arm area rubbed against the underarm area, which hurt. And if I held it out even a little, the skin pulled and stretched, which also hurt.)
So... that's my summer so far. Yay!
In the words of Daria, "Is it fall yet?"
I want to thank everyone for being so supportive while I was mourning the loss of The Ocs. Every once in awhile, at the most unexpected times, I get hit with grief. Like when Med Student (who some of you know as Rachel) and I were eating at the local Vietnamese restaurant and she mentioned that she wished she had been able to have gone to free Goo Goo Dolls concert as part of Philadelphia's Welcome America (Fourth of July) celebration. I burst in tears, and she was like, "What happened? What's going on? What just happened?" When I finally stopped crying, I explained that I had also wanted to go, but that was Oscar's last night with us. And we just sat there, in the middle of the restaurant, holding hands for awhile.
Or the other day when I was talking to Ria and I mentioned my cats. And then I realised that I don't have cats, plural, anymore. And then I called my mom and cried.
I believe I emailed everyone who left a message for me on the blog who also left their email address, and I received a lot of messages on Ravelry that I believe I've also returned, as well. When I started modding the Free Pattern Testers group, I never realised that I'd meet such caring people with so many of their own stories to share, too!
I've also got another really frustrating situation going on right now which has my life in extreme limbo. Some of you know about it, especially local friends. But when I have definitive answers and know the implications of what's going on, I'll spill all.
In other news, I had my regular three-month check-in with my doctor last week. I'm still low in Vitamin D, so she switched me from 3,000 IUs a day to 50,000 IUs a week. And since I've been having very minor right upper-quadrant pain again (very similar to what I was having two years ago when the gall-bladder in-and-out of the hospital fiasco began), she did a bunch of blood tests and gave me an ultrasound order in case the pain gets worse, and I can decide whether I want to go in for the test. If the pain continues, I can make an appointment with my GI specialist, and I'll have the baseline pancreatic enzyme levels and U/S results for him to see.
She's also sending me to an orthopaedic specialist for my torn hip cartilage to get a second opinion since neither of us are particularly pleased with the progress I've been making with the PM&R guy I've been seeing. But first I need to see him one more time to get my MRI results back, my records, etc. And of course, he's on vacation for the next two weeks. Yay.
And the latest (which I made some vague references to on Twitter): Those of you who have ever tried to hang out with me in the summer know I'm terrified of hanging out outdoors. It's not that I'm not an outdoors person - it's that I'm allergic to pretty much every bug ever. If a bug looks at me, I'll get a huge-ass welt that will itch until forever. This past Saturday afternoon, I had what I thought was a bug bite kind of between my breast and my underarm. So I did the usual - took an Allegra (an oral antihistamine) and treated topically with Benadryl cream (also an antihistamine). But still I itched... and itched... and itched.
Until Saturday night around 11:00 p.m. when I called Mom pretty freaked out. My entire underarm area, going up to part of my triceps area was covered in what looked like tiny bug bites. Now, usually if I've just scratched a single bug bite a lot, I'll break out in hives, but my hives will be really large, and I know what they look like. And when I take an Allegra and slather on the Benadryl, it'll take the hives. But I'd been doing that all night, to no avail. So I was pretty freaked out. Mom and I went through all the usual suspects - no new foods, no new clothes, I had gone tromping through the woods, etc.
Sunday morning, when I woke up, the area hadn't spread, but it now looked like one huge rash (and when I say huge, I mean it - but I'll get to that in a minute). Instead of tiny bites, it looked as if my cat Felix had taken a fire engine red paint can and spilled it on me overnight. I blame Ria. She's the only person I know who has regular access to paint cans.
To make a long story short (or is it too late?), I spent the weekend not sleeping from the discomfort. I was very tempted to go to the ER - not because I thought my life was in danger, but I was simply that uncomfortable and unable to sleep. But my ER copay is $75 and a doctor visit only costs $10. And it being the weekend, I knew I'd have to sit for hours to see someone in the ER when they'd do the same thing the doctor would do. So I continued with the Allegra, Benadryl, and I threw in an ice pack every once in awhile (but since I only have one ice pack, that only worked every few hours).
I finally saw a doctor Monday afternoon. He measured the rash for my chart, and it was an impressive 6" x 8" (told you it was huge). He gave me a steroid taper, which I'm VERY familiar with, as someone with moderate-level asthma. He also told me to switch to hydrocortisone cream instead of Benadryl (or to alternate) since the Benadryl wasn't being effective for me. And to continue with the ice pack. I told him the biggest problem was just that I was "very uncomfortable," and he laughed a bit wryly and said, "I would imagine, from how red and how large that is, that would be the understatement of the year, my dear."
It's getting a little better every day, but that could just be because Fe got some paint eraser from Ria. I'm not sure. Mostly I'm happy that I can read and knit again. Not being able to use my right arm at all for those few days was a killer. While I'm ambidextrous and could use my left hand to eat and write, not being able to use my arm was interesting. (I had to keep it still because if I held it down, the affected upper arm area rubbed against the underarm area, which hurt. And if I held it out even a little, the skin pulled and stretched, which also hurt.)
So... that's my summer so far. Yay!
In the words of Daria, "Is it fall yet?"
05 July 2010
In Memoriam: Oscar
19 February 1996 - 05 July 2010
Last Tuesday, Oscar and I went to the vet, got some steroids, and hoped that he'd start doing better. On Wednesday, we heard that his thyroid levels were too low, adjusted his meds accordingly, and hoped for the best. But he was already doing better, despite refusing the meds. Having been a social worker for "the aging" (aka: old people), I was aware that sometimes sick people (and animals) perk up for a bit right before they die. So even though Ocs started to ambulate better and even though he joined me for a shower, I was afraid to hope. But by Saturday night when he full-out JUMPED onto the love seat, my heart soared. I hugged him tight to my chest, told him I'd missed him, and welcomed him back. Little did I know.
When he woke up Sunday, he stumbled all the way down the hall, ending his trek by falling in the living room. Throughout the day, he got progressively worse. He had a bad fall in the litter box, in which he managed to flip himself over and ended up doing a face-plant in the litter. By the end of the day, he would only eat if I spoon-fed him baby food, and he would drink only if I brought a water bowl to him, and then he drank by putting the right half of his face in the bowl and drank sideways out of his mouth. He was non-responsive to pets or his name being called, and he was unable to walk or even stand by nighttime.
I called Dr. Kurpel first thing Monday morning, and described my boy's personality and symptoms. She said if I felt like it was time to say good-bye, bring him on in, and if she agreed, we could either do it today when I brought him in, or I could take him home to prepare myself and bring him back when I was ready. She then offered to transfer me back to the front desk to make the appointment, or said I could call back when I was ready. I decided I was ready to make the appointment then. I made the appointment for 3:40 p.m. Then I called Naomi and it was decided that she and Anju would accompany me to the vet's office. I asked Naomi to call the vet and get permission for me to bring Ocs in wrapped in his favourite blanket (a NASCAR blanket I won at Kansas Speedway two years ago). First, he couldn't stand or walk, so he wasn't going anywhere. Second, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving with an empty cat crate. They said it was fine.
Jill came over and got some pictures of Oscar. As Jill said, they probably won't capture the spirti of the Ocs, but at least I'll some more pics. We put him on his window perch, and hoped for the best. If any of them come out decent, I'll share them. Then Fe decided he needed to ham it up for the camera, so Jill got some pretty good pics of him, too. I tried to get some food into Ocs, but he refused food all day. Later, when Oscar and I left, I asked Felix if he wanted to tell Oscar good-bye, and I swear to God (and Naomi can verify this), Felix ran over to Oscar and they rubbed noses. No one will EVER be able to convince me that didn't mean something.
When we got to the vet's office, I made eye contact with Zoe (the ever-so-wonderful front desk woman), and I burst into tears. Zoe immediately grabbed a waiting room chair and said, "C'mon, let's get you into an exam room where you can sit down and be with him." Anju and Naomi came in with me, and I let Ocs lie on the exam table on his blanket. Dr. Kurpel saw him, and didn't even bother with all of the normal vitals. She saw him lying there, only his tail flicking back and forth occasionally, and I told her how the last 36 hours had been. She noted that when he comes in, he's usually pretty relaxed, but he was way beyond that. I replied that the only movement from him had been the tail. She said that, unlike with dogs, when cats flick their tails, it's a sign of UNhappiness - in Oscar's case, most likely pain or discomfort. Oh. Why did I feel instantly guilty?
A couple of times, while we were discussing some minor doubts that I had (He was like this last Monday, then he had five good days. What if we don't do this today and he's scheduled for another week of good days?), he tried to lift his head and just couldn't. At one point, he let out a strangled howl. She later told me that cats really only do that when it's their time to go. Their voice changes and gets deep, and it's a voice you only hear when they're about to go. And she said it was when she heard that that she knew it was his time.
She said that if I was still feeling like it was time to say good-bye to him, she completely supported that decision. I said I did feel that way, and I wanted to go ahead and do it today. She explained the procedure, and asked if I wanted to be with him for it. I told her that Oscar had been with me for everything, and I wasn't leaving him now. She asked me if I wanted some more time alone with him before she started, and I said it was okay - I'd been preparing since last week, really. Although she had explained the procedure before, she thoughtfully explained every step again as she did it. After a few minutes, she came back and gave Oscar the first shot to sedate him. She said she'd be back in a few minutes to check on him. At this point, I asked Naomi and Anju to say their good-byes to Oscar, as I wanted to be alone with him in his final moments.
Dr. Kurpel came back in after a few minutes, and started to insert the IV in Oscar's leg, but he wasn't sedated enough. So she gave him another shot, and we waited another few minutes. Finally, it was time. She gave him the IV drugs, and as soon as it was injected, she used her stethoscope to check his heart, nodded, looked at me, and whispered, "He's gone." She said I could stay in the room as long as I wanted to, she could bring my friends back if I wanted to, she gave me some materials on pet bereavement, and she told me I could call her anytime to talk if I needed to.
Then Dr. Kurpel and I had an impromptu little eulogy-esque type of thing for the Ocs. She said that cats sometimes put on a persona when they come in, but she could tell that Oscar was just Oscar - that he was really sweet and charismatic. And she always told him how handsome he was. I told her about the time that Oscar "buried" a dead bird under Mom's couch, and we only found it after we went looking for the thing that had made the house smell REALLY bad for three days. And how he planted his nose right in my ear at night so all I heard was his rather loud purr. And how he takes showers with me, and now showers will never be the same without him.
Before I left, I talked to Dr. Kurpel about Felix. See, Fe and Ocs were best buds. The very first night they were introduced, they were playing together. They actually woke me up that first night, and I thought they were fighting, but they were playing. And they've been pretty inseparable since; they groom each other, they play together, and they sleep together. So I'm worried about how Felix will react to not having his buddy around. She told me to watch his appetite and make sure he's eating. See if he starts hiding out. Monitor changes in behaviour. She said sometimes the surviving cat will take on the traits of the cat who passed. But, either way, just pay a little extra attention to him in the coming days, and call her if I have questions or concerns about the little guy.
We also talked a little bit about how confused I was about how Oscar went downhill so fast, then made this recovery for five days, then took a VERY sudden turn for the worse. She said that cats are especially good at masking pain and discomfort. But seeing at how quickly and aggressively this thing attacked Oscar, her best guess is that he had either a tumour or a cancer of some kind - that it went WAY beyond the thyroid issue, and anything I could have picked up on just from observing him at home. I just shook my head and sighed. Then she repeated her offer to call her anytime to talk to her if I needed to.
Once again, thank you for all of the support I've received throughout the last few weeks. Thank you for sharing your stories with me. Thank you for making me laugh, for the hugs, and most of all... for just listening to me cry on the phone (you know who you are).
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