First Holiday Alone

Today has been hard.  Tonight there will be fireworks, folks out there having a good time.

I have spent the day, alone, curled up on Bob's hospital bed, in tears.

I keep the phone by the bed, but rarely does it ring, anymore. I'm sure everyone is pretty tired of this weepy widow.

I have two sick puppies by my side.  Boomer -- the usual end of life issues.  Kona has developed an infection on her incision site (from the spay) and is vomiting.  Took Kona back to the vet yesterday. She's got new meds and a prescribed "bland diet". Though the doctor thinks the vomiting might be "stress related".   I can certainly relate to that, as I've been doing the same.

Tonight, I light a candle by Bob's ashes, his sunglasses, watch, a lamp that he restored, along with Zenith's ashes, her collar, seashells from our honeymoon.  My little memorial table:

Some days, I just don't know how to deal with this....

It's A Comedy -- and the joke's on me

So, what happened is this:

On Saturday, I took Kona for a walk.  Now Kona is a very sweet dog, very mild tempered and she minds well. She knows her name, comes when she's called, knows the meaning of "no!" and is house trained.  But that's about the extent of it. She does not know "sit", "stay", "wait". And I don't believe she has ever been walked on a leash!

The first time I put a leash on Kona, she dragged me down the alley. This was not fun, especially since she's 91 lbs.  I trained Boomer with a German Pinch collar, so I put that on Kona and decided to start training her to "heel".  It was going pretty good.

So back to Saturday, I decided to walk Kona the six blocks to the lake where there is a dog park. I thought she might enjoy running free with some other dogs.  She was doing real well, so well, in fact, that I got sloppy.

We were crossing the street to the park and I was watching traffic and I wasn't watching Kona. Big mistake. She stepped in front of me and I tripped right over her. And fell. Flat on the ground. In the middle of the street. And Kona, seeing me on the ground, laid down next to me.

No one helped me. Even though there were plenty of people around. I got up, bleeding from my knee and leg, limped across the street to sit down on a park bench.  After catching my breath, we went home.

At home, I realized that my elbow and wrist were killing me.  But I could move both and figured I had just bruised myself badly. I did the whole RICE thing, ice, rest, elevate, etc.  It hurt so bad, I hate to admit that I swiped a couple of Boomer's pain meds.

The next morning, I could not move my arm at all. So I drove myself to the ER.

The last time I was at that ER was with Bob.  Memories flooded me.  Bob in that bed saying "Go home! Go home!" and then I noticed the date, 6/28, exactly one month from his death.  I tell you, I was in tears.

Anyway, got some painful x-rays, and the doc told me that I broke my arm in two places:  at the elbow and wrist.  They wrapped me up in an "immobilization" splint that went from my fingertips to midway between my elbow and shoulder. The splint was bent so that I could not unbend my arm. They gave me a sling. They sent me home with pain meds (which were the exact same pain meds Boomer takes!) and a referral to an orthopedic doc for casting my arm.

Yesterday, I went to the orthopedic doc, who was unfortunately in the same clinic where Bob went for his foot problems. More tears. Including me, sitting in the van, wailing, "Bob, why did you leave me?!!"  

That doc cut off the splint, looked at the exact same x-rays and told me that I did not break my elbow, it was only badly bruised. That there was only a chip on my wrist bone and my wrist was badly sprained.  No broken bones.

I left with a wrist brace. Picked up Kona from the vet where she was spayed. She will definitely need more training with that leash....

Comedy or Tragedy?

So, I'm trying to decide which plot I've landed in --- comedy or tragedy?  Here's the plot outline so far --

Heroine's beloved husband dies.
Not even a month later, the beloved cat dies.
Meanwhile, the old beloved dog is at death's door...
Heroine gets a rescued yellow dog to cheer her up.
Then promptly, heroine trips over said yellow dog and breaks her arm in two places.

I'm not making this up.

I once had a writing instructor explain the "fine line" between comedy and tragedy like this:

A man slips on a banana peel = comedy.

YOU slip on a banana peel = tragedy.

So which is it?

I tell you, it's hard to type one-handed. So I stop here.

PS: Boomer is still hanging in here....
      Kona at the vet getting spayed...

      Ripley throwing a pizza party as Kona is gone tonight!

And me? Trying desperately to maintain my sense of humor.....

Fostering Kona

This was Hillary's idea.  Hillary is our veterinarian.  You know, it's pretty bad when you are on first name basis with your vet.  Anyway, Hillary got a call from the Labrador/Retriever Rescue of Florida.  There were four purebred labs being turned in to them, and they needed a vet visit for shots, etc. Then, they would all need foster homes. And Hillary asked if I'd consider fostering a purebred lab? She thought a younger dog might be just "the thing" to "perk Boomer up" and it would also be good for my heartbroken soul...

So I picked up Kona, a 4 year old female yellow lab, on Thursday.  I hate to say, those dogs were living under terrible conditions...

"Kona" means "lady" in Hawiian.

She's overweight, has an ear infection and a wound on her leg. She is on antibiotics and ear drops. I have to take her in to be spayed next week (the rescue pays for it). But she's a sweetheart. And she "picked" me -- I was actually supposed to pick up one of the other dogs. But she sat at my feet and looked at me with those sad brown eyes and I asked if I could take her instead.

Ripley on attack mode!

And she's scared to death of Ripley!  And Ripley hates her ---

Though Boomer thinks she's a fine girlfriend.

I'm told I can either foster her until someone adopts her, or -- I can become a "foster failure" and adopt her, myself.  So, we'll see what happens.  A lot depends on Ripley.

This photo, with former owner, taken by Hillary before Kona's exam. Look at Kona's nails.

Zenith

Zenith passed away after surgery today. She had a cardiac arrest.

I can't believe this is happening.   This is too hard.

Update

This is hard. Perhaps the hardest thing I've ever been through.  It feels much like when Bob had his stroke back in 2010 and was in a coma for so long. Except then there was hope. And now, there is none.

Boomer is not doing well.  It's sort of like a "death watch" for him.  I had scheduled the vet to come last week, Sunday, to put him to sleep -- but she couldn't make it until later in the day and somehow Boomer perked up and rebounded.  Yesterday and today, he is not eating. I have some new pills for him, appetite stimulate and something for nausea.  We go, day by day. Waiting.

Zenith began vomiting blood. Pure blood. I took her in for an ultrasound and they found a "fluid filled mass" on her liver. I take her on Wednesday for exploratory surgery and biopsy. Pray it isn't cancer.

Bubba, our good friend and car mechanic, is in the hospital having suffered a stroke. Bubba, who took me to the funeral parlor to collect Bob's ashes. Who was building Bob an urn for his ashes...

Chris is sick, having a raging infection stemming from her foot. She may have to have a toe amputated.

Ripley doing better, I spend evenings curled up with him on Bob's hospital bed. This house has become a lonely, sad place.