Clematis

That is terrible! Did Polly have any signs of pancreatitis before the ham, or was it entirely brought on by the ham?

Haley, I am so sorry to hear that this happened to you. Anyone feels terrible about having injured a pet, and it happens a lot. I have a friends who have similar stories, one of whom had two dogs who developed pancreatitis from an overly fat diet from table scraps. It's been years, but she hasn't forgotten it and is now advising me about a better diet for my cat Lena so that she does not go down the same road. These animals, out beloved pets, live right with us and are into everything we do...it is hard to protect them from everything and think ahead of everything that could happen as hard as we might try. My cat is my best friend and I try so hard to make sure she is safe, has the best food and that nothing happens to her. Nevertheless, I sometimes step on her paw or tail and feel terrible. She is an indoor cat, but has gotten out a few times and I was terrified. Just last week she was sick because I had fed her some new foods that had too much fat in them even though I was starting to think that she didn't do well with high fat. Now I know I need to be more careful, but I felt very guilty. She is a therapy cat and visits people in nursing homes, schools, etc, and so she has more risks than most cats. I try so hard to make sure nothing happens to her, but once her tail got closed in the car door. It was awful! As it turned out, it was pinched and not injured, but when my vet friend was explaining to me on the phone that sometimes cats have to have their tails amputated from injuries like this...well it was horrible. She was fine, still has an intact tail, and still is totally nonchalant about where that tail is and if it's at risk. I am much more careful about the doors if Lena is anywhere near the car, but it doesn't mean there will never be any more accidents. They are vulnerable, our little pets, and accidents happen to the most vigilant of us. I think we just have to be careful and live with the fact that none of us are perfect at anything, even being parents to our beloved pets. We all feel for you because the loss alone, without the feelings of guilt, is a staggering blow, and all of us here are very familiar with that path. Hang in there and keep us posted!

8 vegetables! That's pretty good-what are they? Lena is supposed to start taking probiotics - I got them yesterday...

Thanks, Kay! Lena seems to be all better. I feel badly about having given her food that made her sick, but I didn't really know it was a problem. I was starting to think it might be a problem, but the evidence was rather sketchy. How low is your dog's low fat diet? I wonder what percentage that is... As to the cat food, I wonder what food that is that your vet is talking about. I have been reading a lot of cat food labels in the past week and the highest I saw was 18% on dry food and 8% on canned... Lena now has health insurance! As things turned out, she was just "not feeling well" and the vet didn't diagnose her with anything other than an upset stomach. But it was scary. I don't want to ever be in a position where I need to make decisions about Lena's health care or even her life based on my finances. To me, Lena is worth more than all the money in the world, but that doesn't mean I have it. I'd rather just pay a little every month and feel more secure.

Lena is better...a little tired but everything seems to be working ok. Looking back on it, Lena had a lot of oily food in a week - salmon, venison, and duck. It seems like it had an accumulative effect for her to eat all that fatty food long with high fat cat treats. Lena's regular canned food has 1.5 to 2% fat, and her Merry Meals by the same company with the same high quality natural ingredients have 5% fat. (I bought tons of Merry Meals during the holidays at about half price.) But the kibble she used to eat and the Temptation cat treats she loves have 17% fat. That is a huge difference. Lena's favorite treat is freeze-dried chicken; it is expensive and messy, since when she chews it up it turns to powder, but it is only 5% fat.I guess I need to be more careful about what she eats. It would be terrible if Lena developed health problems because I wasn't paying attention to what I feed her.

Lena is still not right...somewhat lethargic and still no poop in the box. She is eating and drinking and urinating. My friend Paula retired from her career as a vet because she had to start taking blood thinners, and she is a great resource since she really misses working with animals. Paula said I should relax and give it another day before getting too worried. I called the office of Lena's vet and they said the same thing...also, Lena's regular vet is not at the clinic today but will be back tomorrow. I guess I'll wait till tomorrow and keep watching the litter box. Meanwhile, Lena is sleeping in the sunshine...

My close friend Susan, a physician, is concerned that Lena may have pancreatitis, which is rather common in cats. Susan knows a lot about pancreatitis in humans and animals, and as Lena's "godmother" knows her history and really loves her. I'm not sure that Lena's vet is concerned about that, but we didn't actually talk about it. The assistant took the history and I was rather distracted by the time we saw the vet because Lena was so uncharacteristically distressed, hissing and growling/moaning. I am still worried about Lena. She is eating but is lethargic and has not pooped since some diarrhea 31 hours ago. I guess I'll call the vet in the morning if nothing shows up in the litter box overnight. She is drinking and peeing...

It's Petromalt, or some knockoff, which is basically vaseline with a malt or fish flavor. You put it on their paw and they lick it off because they don't want the nasty stuff on their paw. Some people just use the vaseline because it's cheaper and works the same, maybe even better because it's gooier. The Petromalt is stiffer and some kitties figure out how to roll it up in a ball with their tongue and flick it off their paw instead of swallowing it. You eventually find it on the wall or something. I've used it on cats before with good success, but not with Lena...somehow smearing a petroleum derivative into the fur of this precious fur ball doesn't sit well with me. But maybe I should do it anyway or brush her more in the spring/summer in spite of her objections. She is secretive about her grooming; I never see her bathing except a few quick licks after the litterbox or a meal. But her coat is amazingly smooth and shiny all the time; she has to work on it to have such perfect fur... Anyway, she is much better - last night and continuing into today. =^. .^=

Thank you, Marty, Lena seems to be doing better. She was very ill-tempered at the vet's office (acted like a normal cat and not Lena). The vet didn't know what was wrong with her but gave her a shot of Cerenia that was to help her stomach, and it seems to have helped her to work things out. She is wanting to eat now and seems more like herself. The vet said to give her kitten food for her upset stomach, and she has also had some of her very favorite food, freeze-dried chicken. She is still a little lethargic, but I think she is ok.

Lena is sick! Hopefully it is nothing serious - like she has been swallowing too much fur since it's warmed up... I am taking her to the vet this afternoon. She is lethargic and eating very little, and she is a cat who eats any kind of cat food as if it were the last food on earth.

I had no idea how much I had wrapped up in him. I was just thinking about my dad and the boy scouts. He was very proud of being in the scouts when he was young, and I think a large part of his compass came from the scouts. I remember him giving me advice and telling me that "It all goes back to those things they teach you in the scouts..." I was in the girl scouts of course, and not the boy scouts, and they have a similar law that is shorter and broader but less concrete. I like the way the boy scout law is spelled out. I wish I had a poster of it - there must be one... I don't think he needed it - I think it was engraved on his psyche somehow, but it might help me. I found a piece online ("The Meaning of the Scout Law") that had a sentence/paragraph about each of the 12 scout laws and it is so much him; I think it was his ideal and endeavor from very young to the end and beyond. I'm not sure how well I am doing at it, but I think it became my creed as well. Well, speaking of being trustworthy, I'd better get out the door and get to where I promised to be this morning. Laura

Thanks, Anne - I loved your message and read it over and over. I loved the illustrated poem as well. It is wonderful to feel everyone's support. I did buy the tires - right after my little chat with my dad in front of the cemetery. I do feel him with me and it seems sometimes like he is guiding me. I felt so linked to him when I was young, and that bond is still there. He was my hero when I was young...at the end of his life he was my hero and my best friend. I feel him with me almost all the time and still he seems so far away. It is really hard to get my mind around it all. Good thing I have Lena - amazing that a small pussycat could be such a help and such an enormous presence in my life.

I guess I'm not really drifting around without a rudder, but I am not really sure who I am anymore...

The Neutral Zone...that sounds like it. I have been doing some of those things with not much comprehension for why it was the thing to do. I suppose much of the world has little comprehension of the extent of grief, even mental health professionals. I knew losing him would be hard, but I had no idea how difficult the loss and transition would be. And there has been so much else going on, like the car accident, having to deal with his house and possessions, working, and trying to keep things going with my art and music...

Does this leave you feeling like you are drifting around without a rudder?

Thanks, Anne. I am confused. Sometimes I feel like I am doing ok and then I feel like I am back to things I have moved beyond, like second guessing what I did around the time of my dad's death and that kind of thing. He was in rehab 1-1/2 hours from home & I had spent his last afternoon/evening with him. I had my hand on the doorknob getting back home when they called me to tell me they had taken him to the ER. I had a bunch of phone calls with them as he seemed to be improving and they moved him to a floor. They never told me that he never spoke another word after I left him. I could have driven back, over a mountain pass, late at night and been there for him at the end. Lena woke me up when he died and I saw the message on my phone that I had slept through. I could have rushed back over there, when they first called me or when I learned he had died, and I probably would have survived the drive. But he was talking to me, telling me that he wasn't there any more (with his body). So, I took my time, ate breakfast and then drove over, calling the funeral home, my sisters, and so on as I drove over the mountain. I never saw his body; maybe I should have. The funeral home director picked him up, cremated him according to his wishes, and stayed in touch with me. My dad and everyone else imaginable has told me that I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't say goodbye to him at the end, but the truth is I said goodbye to him for ten years in different ways, telling him I loved him and would support his decisions to live and die the way he wanted, no matter what. I really don't have anything to regret; there is nothing I would do differently if I were to do it again. But he is still dead and there is no changing that. The hole I feel with his absence is still there. It still seems bizarre that my possessions and his are intermingled in a house that looks more like his than mine, and yet I am here and he is here in spirit only. What comes next? Where is this path going? I have heard it said that relationships don't end because a person dies - they change. Perhaps that is what this is. I don't feel the same as I did. I don't have as much joy as I did, but my energy and drive have returned, even though it is much less clear what motivates me. Sometimes it really feels like it is him, as if he were a part of me. I have lived my life with a lot of anxiety and dread, trying to control things to avoid a calamity. Some of the calamities happened anyway, and my dad helped me through them. Now it is more like I have an awareness that I need to take steps to avoid problems, like replacing my tires, losing some weight, and making sure the doors are secure so the cat doesn't get out. But I am no longer terrified that if I screw up I might destroy my life and/or die. That probably seems like a good thing, but I am not sure that it is really me. I am not sure who I am or where I am going anymore. I have his tools and in some things am following in his footsteps, but still feel like I don't have a rudder. This last week I played two 3-hour gigs, put my artwork in two different shows, and had five paintings accepted for an online arts journal, which involved writing a bio and an artist statement. I also landed a professional gig, which may well lead to continued work next school year. This week, Spring Break, I will be creating an outdoor work of art on a sign, commissioned by the local greenhouse, a business and group of people I have loved for years. This is great but it all seems empty. What does this mean?

I haven't heard much from my dad lately and have wondered if I have been too busy to hear him, if he thought I was too busy and didn't need him, or what. But yesterday I got a phone call confirming some work - the same gig I had before working out on the reservation like I was doing before I was in the car accident. I have let my car repairs drift a bit due to the lack of income and suddenly had the idea maybe I should replace my very balding front tires before doing those long drives again. I pulled over into the drive of a big church to use my phone to call the tire place and the place where I happened to park - to be out of the way - was in front of the All Souls Cemetery. I have still not taken my dad's ashes to Pennsylvania to put in the grave with my mother's remains because my sisters were not speaking to me last summer and I figured I would wait a year. So I was sitting in front of this cemetery entrance and suddenly heard him say, "No! Don't put me in there!" I told him not to worry - that I was thinking about replacing the front tires. He said, "Oh - that's a good idea" and seemed relieved. It seemed like so typical thing for him to worry about something like that. When he first moved to AZ, he worried that I would get married and move away and leave him alone. He realized that was absurd before long, and then worried that I was going to stuff him in a nursing home. I kept telling him no, no no, and finally told him the truth - that I was afraid I was being selfish in wanting to keep him to myself, and that if he really wanted to go live somewhere else I would support that, but I really really wanted him where he was - where I could get in my car and be at his house in a minute and a half. I sure wish he was still a minute and a half away. Sometimes he seems closer because he is really always with me, but it really is not the same and never will me. Sometimes I really wonder what is wrong with me that I miss him so much. I have gotten busy doing things I enjoy, but most of the things that interest me the most are things that are somehow connected to him. I still struggle with a meaninglessness and crushing emptiness that returns whenever I am not engaged in something pressing. I think it's probably permanent.

Yeah...he was great. He taught me how to play the ukulele, to paddle a canoe, and how to catch and clean a fish, including that important detail that no one else wants to clean fish you catch unless they are in the business of being paid to clean fish that others catch. I opted to paddle my little sister around in the canoe while she fished, stash the canoe gear afterwards, and then show up for fish dinner! One of the things I shared with my dad was a willingness to work relentlessly for what I wanted. He was not much of a communicator for much of my life, but he made comments showing anger and hurt at my moving out west. I was trying to get away from the crazy atmosphere my mother created all around her, but he insisted that I had been trying to get away from him. I suppose he got over that idea when I coaxed him out west after my mother died. So here I am, out here alone now, trying to make sense of my family and ancestral heritage while feeling cut adrift from all of it by my father's death. And my sisters...it seems like the more time goes by the more it looks like not only did we not lose the same father, but we weren't even in the same family. It is not as if they are close to each other even though they see each other. Each is close to their children and the kids are all close because they grew up together. When my dad moved out west he told my sisters - and also me - that they each had their own families (their kids), but since I was alone he was going to move to AZ to be family to me. And he did. But now he's dead and I feel as estranged from everyone else as I ever did. My mother worked hard to drive a wedge between everyone else and pit everyone else against each other. I though all that twisted divisiveness would end with my mother's death 12 years ago but it didn't. I keep trying to change her legacy, but it seems that since I am the only one that is really trying it only means that I am responsible for any failure. But perhaps it is not as bad as I think. My sisters do both seem to be trying to put forth more of an effort to be nice to me, and that is something.

Thanks! My dad softened and relaxed toward the end of his life and I was able to have the relationship with him that I had always wanted. He was also great when my sisters and I were little. I work as a school psychologist and test kids to see if they qualify for special education. Bu the time they are tested kids have failed so much they generally feel rather demoralized. I talk to kids about strengths and weaknesses and their eyes glaze over. So I tell them a story about my dad. I am uncoordinated and have never been good at sports - especially team sports involving teams, balls, and other stuff. When I was in the sixth grade I was miserable due to failure, rejection, and teasing in school related to softball. My dad spent several weeks with me in the back yard with a Wiffle ball and bat on the weekends and when he got home from work. He would toss me the ball and coach me on hitting it with the bat. I ask the kids what they think. "Do you think I got any better at hitting the ball?" A small nod yes. "Do you think I ever made the softball team?" Always a big smile and maybe a laugh, with a definite head shake no. That's right! I've come to believe this is the true model of special education. With extra help you get to be ok in the area of your deficits, but you should plan on something else for your career. It's one of my favorite stories about what I learned from him, but he taught me tons of things - how to polish my shoes, fix a flat on my bike, ride that bike, fix the car, intimidate the boys, succeed in school, build a career, write a paragraph-and an essay, and his most frequent advice, "You've got to look out for number one - because a lot of the time no one else will." Another favorite - but less useful story is this other from the sixth grade. We were going to have a frog jumping contest in school and I was sad that I couldn't participate because well, how does one even get a frog? No problem for my dad! He said he'd show me and the afternoon before the contest he walked me down to the creek, coffee can in hand. To my astonishment he found and caught a frog. I kept it in the can over night and returned it to its home after school the next day. My frog was not a big jumper but I was so proud to have been able to show up with a real live frog! When I was born, one of my great aunts took one look at me and said, "Well, you'll never be able to deny this one, Charles!" I turned out to be a lot like him - and not just in appearance. He was a great role model - especially for me, because I have had a career. He had better luck during his career, but like him I am very smart and have worked very hard, and I have come out ok. I could not have supported a family of five on my income, but I haven't had to. There were a lot of not-so-good things in between the frog & Wiffle ball days and his elderly years, but since we worked through them when he was alive, it was easy to coax him out here and have ten years of a good relationship with him. I grieve the loss of the father and friend I loved, and don't think about the other stuff. I had him when I really needed him and he had me when he really needed me.

Thank you!

Yesterday was my birthday. My dad seemed to fumble things on my birthday more often than not. I sometimes wondered why he couldn't manage to find a birthday card on my birthday, even though he always took me out to dinner and gave me something - usually cash - as a present. The reason for the lack of cards is becoming apparent after his death, as I have found a number of birthday cards and other cards that seem to be meant for me. He seems to have bought them ahead of time and then misplaced them, ending up empty-handed more often than not when my birthday actually came around. I thought I had no doubt found all of them as I have gone through most of his stuff except for the garage. But no...two days before my birthday I found a card I had never seen. I was clearing off the little table/desk he used for his laptop to give it to my new neighbor, and there it was! What a nice birthday surprise... My new neighbor is 86 and her children thought she was too old to be living on her own, separated her from most of her possessions, and installed her with one of her daughters in the Phoenix area. She was miserable, as the daughter micro-managed her, and escaped back to Sedona, where she arrived with very little furniture and household goods. Since I have an overabundance of practically everything, I have been redirecting stuff like that little table and an office chair next door. She has had to spend a lot of money replacing basic things so she can live on her own and is pleased to have some things she doesn't have to pay for, and I am thrilled to re-home some things I was hesitant to just take to a thrift store. It is nice to see them being happily used. It's great, and my new neighbor is a delight. I am so happy to have her there!

Thanks, Kay, My sisters - well it's always new variations if ickiness. They have had their share of old family stuff for so long that it has lost its luster. They have actually been unloading some of what they have and wish their children would settle down enough so that they could unload more. But it doesn't keep them from roving an eye over what I have, now that I finally have something. I got this idea that it would be really cool to compile a little book with pictures and stories so that when I eventually pass on, the chain will stay intact between the stories that I have do have and the "things". I was telling my younger sister Diane about this and she cut me off by telling me that young people don't care about old things or ancestry - well except the ones in our family. (Yes, those are the very ones we are discussing). Then she went on to bring up the family clocks - I thought there was only one, but there are apparently two. She has one and I have one. She told me, "Well if YOU are wanting to swap them, I would be willing to do that." My older sister Suzanne advised me to ask Diane for stories, saying, "Diane was the one who always had her eye on the stuff - remember how when she was little she was always snooping through people's houses? Like from the age of three?" After my mother died and my sisters helped my dad go through the family home. He was deciding what to bring to AZ and my sisters were helping themselves to SUV loads of stuff every time they went to his house. Every time Diane showed interest in some item, my dad would comment, "it must be worth something or she wouldn't care about it." This is the same sister who said, "I don't want to insult you but..." and then offered to buy our mother's engagement ring from me (for a small fraction of its value) because her daughter's boyfriend seemed to be serious about marrying her. So I'm thinking the clock I ended up with must be worth more than the clock she has and she's trying to make it seem like she is willing to do me a favor and it was my idea... This was yesterday, on the phone call when she called to tell me Happy Birthday. Huh. Good thing there are plenty of other people on the planet. Many of them are lots nicer than my sisters. I even know some of them... Lena is such a comfort. Right now she too busy for snuggling - she is at the back door watching a pair of cardinals. She is enjoying them a lot more than the spy cat and her sister, who used to live next door. By the way, remember Jade the spy cat, the one I rescued, who was abandoned by her horrible humans, my previous neighbors? Well, Jade was adopted and has a new family, with a little girl who is SO excited about her new kitty. Isn't that sweet?

It's true - I had ten years with him. And while I wish it had been more, the time I had with him was worth more than anything he had. And my sisters - they have at least as much stuff from the family as I have. I know of people who could fit all of their old family stuff in a shoebox, but my family had people in several generations who never got rid of anything, so there was plenty to go around. I think it's like that "what have you done for me lately" phenomena. My parents had a house full of stuff and then there were several deaths on both sides of the family and whatever they couldn't fit in their houses they gave to my sisters since they lived very close and I was across the country. So, for decades I visited both of them and they both had lots of old family furniture and things, while I had about nothing. Now I have a bunch of family things but don't have the stories that go with most of them. My dad wasn't keen on talking about stuff like that and he didn't want me poking around in his house so I really didn't know what he had. When he was alive I focused on him...being with him and enjoying the time we had. It's been really hard going through his things. The things I remember have memories attached that make me miss him and miss all of those who have gone before. I have lost my connection to my mother, my grandparents, great-aunts, aunts & uncles, and everyone else. Maybe it would have been easier to acquire things that had belonged to them while my parents were still alive. I am honored that these things now belong to me, but getting them now with no connection to the people who originally owned them leaves me pondering and feeling very very alone. Sometimes it is overwhelming. And I am realizing that talking to my sisters is not much help and leaves me feeling worse. It anything I feel less connected to the family than before talking to them.

I talked to my sisters today - both of them. I was hoping to get some answers and information from them. I moved out west when I was young, while my sisters lived an hour away from our parents from when they were very young adults. I have all of this old family stuff and am not sure where a lot of it came from, whose it was, or anything else. I would like to know more and thought I'd ask my sisters...I think it was a mistake. Not much really happened but I feel like I've been slimed or "icked on". It just feels like they figure that I got something that should have been theirs... My sisters have their own collections of old family stuff -it's not like I have all of it - and they've had it for a long time because they lived close by and our parents unloaded stuff on them over the years. Then when our mother died 12 years ago they got tons more. Most of the stuff from our parents house went in their direction, although Daddy did pick and choose what he wanted to hang onto. That stuff he brought out west with him, with the understanding that it would be my share when he died. All things considered, I did get the most valuable thing that was left after my mother died - ten years with my dad, his friendship and unconditional love. It was the best and really the only good parenting any of us ever got. It's not like I was trying to keep him for myself. I told them that he was different from the taciturn and bitter man he had been when our mother was alive, but they didn't believe it and wanted no part of him. After he moved out west they hardly ever called him except when they needed money, and I don't think he had any confusion about what was going on. When my best friend's mother asked him if he missed his grandchildren and other two daughters after he moved out here he said "no" without hesitation. So here I am, without him, but I have his stuff. He wanted me to have his stuff. I am struggling to figure what to make of it all. Sometimes I feel like I am really lost.

I know what you mean. My dad became nicer as he got older. My younger sister thought it was related to the Parkinson's and my older sister thought the change was due to being around me. I think the change was due to my mother's illness and death; he was totally devoted to a narcissist and orbited around her. To me it really seemed like he became more like who he was meant to be, like you said. Maybe there is truth to what each of us thought, but whatever the reason it was great that the personality change he had was for the better. I think usually people get worse - my mother certainly did, and she was mean enough already.