January Pains

Image result for january 8 2019 calendarToday is Tuesday 1/8/2019. Most of you know that but I need the reminder. My sense of time and date has been off since Christmas. My patience has been off for two or three days now. I have none. It’s gone. My ears hurt and that turns me into a whiny, stomping, toddler version of the Hulk. I admit it.

I’ve done a lot of jaw clenching and teeth grinding over the past couple of days because I know my mood is horrid. I get really annoyed about little things because I hurt and even small inconveniences feel like one more thing to put up with on top of the hurting. It all started on Friday or Saturday when my dog was enjoyingImage result for cold the cool air and the wind whipping through her fur and refused to come in. So I stood with my sweater wrapped around me in the fading dusk, calling and whistling for the brat to come to me so I didn’t have to traipse through the patch of woods near the house.

That thirty minutes of cold air blowing into my ears did me in. I am paying for it now. It doesn’t help that my day job entails wearing headphones for 8-9 hours and there is no sound level regulation. I mean I can turn the volume up and down, sure. Yet one call can be at a normal level and the next is eardrum-shattering loud. That means I am trying not to voice pain while frantically pressing the button to turn down the volume and listen to whatever the person on the other end of the line is saying.

entrepreneur-1340649_1920January is also the months of employment threat stress. This is true no matter where you work. January is when all those above you on the totem pole start getting a ton of pressure from all the ones above them to “trim the fat”. That can be anything from how many work hours a retail store is allowed for employees to how long phone calls take and how many you get through in a day. In a grocery store, they sometimes focus on items scanned per minute. So hours are cut or quotas are raised and everyone is pressured to do more with less or else there could be repercussions.


Right now, in my current mood and with my aching ears it all feels like so much B.S.


Mourning Max

3This May I lost my cat Max to cancer. It was sudden and I wasn’t prepared. I took him to the vet because he wouldn’t eat; I thought I was being overprotective and they would tell me he had a cold or something. I thought “better safe than sorry”.  Turns out sorrow can creep up on you even if you are trying to be safe.

The doctor came back after doing some x-rays to let me know Max wasn’t going to get better. She had felt a mass in his abdominal region and wanted to get a better look. The mass showed up as several tumors that were pushing down on his digestive system. He couldn’t eat or drink because he couldn’t go to the bathroom. There was nowhere for the waste to go and it would only get worse until he eventually died in great pain.

During this explanation, Max kept trying to crawl back into his carrier. He wanted to go home. He didn’t feel well and he wanted me to hold him or take him home. I shattered.

I had Max from the time he was a tiny kitten. I probably have other posts about him on this blog. He showed up on my porch three years ago with a bad eye infection. He 4eventually lost both his eyes, yet being blind never slowed him down.

He knew when it was time for me to come home from work and would wait near the door for my arrival. Then he would stand up on his hind paws and reach up, like a toddler, wanting to be picked up for cuddles. He very rarely meowed, we joked that it interfered with his sonar, but his purr was strong and deep.

So there I stood in the vet’s office facing the worst possible scenario. They advised that we put him to sleep. The cancer was too widespread for them to operate. They asked that I stay with him while they got him prepared, in order to keep him calm. I didn’t want my baby to suffer any more than he already was so I agreed. I stroked his soft black fur as the injected him with a tranquilizer. I eased him down to his side as it took effect.

7 Tears blinded me through the whole processes. Yet when the vet came in with the final shot I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t watch the life leave him, so I gathered my things and fled. I couldn’t tell you what the vet bill was. I just shoved my credit card at them, signed where the told me, and then left.

I could have taken the body home but I wasn’t strong enough at that point to deal with it. So the vet’s office took care of that as well. (They are a very well respected office in my city. A bit more pricey than some others but the way they treat the animal is worth it. They didn’t just dump him in the trash can out back.)

2So here I am. It’s two months later and my heart is still broken. I miss my Max terribly. We have two other cats and I love them, but I was Max’s person. The other cats have claimed my kids. Our chihuahua is without a doubt my son’s dog. All the animals have been giving me extra attention since Max passed away but there is still a hole…



This story has been more difficult to write than I thought it would be so I am going to have to cut it in half. This is the sad half. Like most serious events in life, this experience clings to me. However, there is a light of hope and happiness. Her name is Molly. I will tell that story in the next post.


Hands Down

I owe you guys a post or two. I still have more about Wizard World Comic Con in Raleigh to write about and I am trying to get the last of the editing done on a book of short stories. I had a formatting snafu that I am trying to straighten out.

Unfortunately, I have also managed to injure both of my hands. I pulled a tendon in the right on and did something painful and unpleasant to the left, probably from over use. Typing or writing is causes me more physical pain than usual at the moment. (I often get headaches while writing, but that is usually from banging my head against the key board when things aren’t going well.)

I have been told that in order for my hands to heal that I need to leave them alone and not use them. Which means no writing. Which means I am slowly going crazy with the work piling up and the unwritten thoughts in my head.

I read a book once, where the main character was a thief and the woman he loves cuts off his dominant hand. To this day, that scene still effects me. I was horrified.

I was really into the character’s head and he was devastated. I completely empathized and went around for days telling people about the scene. Most of them just looked at me funny and I heard, It’s just a book, quiet a few times.  That one scene made me deeply consider what it would be like to lose a hand and how useful the things are. (He ends up stealing the whole kingdom afterwards, btw.)

I have a lot of respect for people who have lost hands or fingers in accidents or were simply born without them. I had an uncle who lost his arm from the elbow down in a rock crusher. His hand got stuck and it was lose the arm or lose his life. He pulled his upper body free, tearing off his own right forearm and hand. Then, in later years, he velcro-ed a guitar pick to the stump and taught himself how to play.

So right now I am currently using my hands more than I am supposed. But it is in order to let those who read this know that I am not supposed to be using my hands. (Yeah, that made more sense before I wrote it down.) The book release I promised will be delayed as well a few other things.

Also, when I finally get back to work, it will probably take a while for all of the thoughts in my head to condense into a form where they make sense. Right now after just a few days of little to no writing, I have all of these words making a stampede for the exit provided by my fingers. I am going to stop now before my common sense is over ruled and I write more than necessary. I will be back, but don’t be surprised if my usual Monday blogs are delayed for the next week or so.