Sad Week

This has been a rough week.  Thumper - the 1/2 rabbit in our "2 dog, 1 cat, 1bird, 1 lizard, 1 1/2 rabbit" home - died this week.  The Darling girl had found her in a park, somehow managed to catch her and bring her home.  the answer was of course "NO!" Then the neighbors stepped in.  Their daughter would take care of it - it would just live in the cage with our rabbit (Kandy Kane).  Being the farm girl that I am, I was able to determine that we did, indeed, have two female rabbits, so I relented. After a week of quarantine, Thumper was introduced to Kandy Kane, and they became bosom buddies.  And the girls did well, splitting the time for feeding and watering, covering for each other when one forgot, etc. Everyone was content.

Then the bunnies got loose.

It happens, sometime it take a day or two to catch Kandy, but she is very sweet and loves us, and is only a little skittish. Thumper?  mass herding efforts with the neighborhood, help from guest, alerts from random strangers.  all to no avail.  Wily little thing.  We would converge upon her, obviously trapped in a corner between the house and a fence, no chance of failure.  But she could sense the weakest link, and bolt directly toward the person most likely to freak out rather than grab her.

All of that was two years ago.  She has been living under our house ever since.  Once she became comfortable with the fact that we were not going to catch her, she grew quite friendly, even letting us pet her when we brought her food and water.  The best thing was the odd, progressive relationship she had with the cat.  At first, Ashe was curious, and maybe a little annoyed.  Then we would find the two engaged in parallel play like toddlers, playing their own version of the same game, watching each other stealthily.  They would take naps in the yard, 3-4 feet away from one another, contentedly sleeping under the same tree.  I came home one day to find Ashe under a neighbor's bench, crouched low, tail twitching.  My heart sank when I realized the object of prey was Thumper.  Ashe ran out, jumped on Thumper's back, they both jumped in the air, and ran off in different directions.  Thumper double backed and chased Ashe under the bench.  Ashe resumed "stalking" pose.  Thumper went back to casually ignoring him.  Apparently this game was repeated over and over until one or both got tired.

Last weekend the Darling Man came in to tell me something was wrong with Thumper, she made no attempts to get away when she was approached.  I picked her up and she sort of sunk into my hands.  She had a small puncture wound (Cat? Raccoon?) at the base of her ear.  Hot, swollen, painful.  Ear drooping, eye closed, unable to really hold her head up.  Obviously infected.  Rabbit skulls are thin and fragile, it is possible that the wound pierced the skull, and the brain was also infected.  She seemed to really appreciate the warm compress, lying her head in my hand, and searching for it when I pulled away.  We did get some water down her, and I think she was resting comfortably.  She did not make it through the night.

The upside of all of this is that no one expected her to last a week outside on her own.  She loved being outdoors, and found a happy, reasonably safe place to live.  How many other rabbits live in a cat protected yard?  My best guess is that she got out of Ashe's circle of influence and was attacked by another cat.  Ashe would not actively defend the rabbit, but he does not allow other cats in his yard.

The other horrible sad thing in our house is Pebbles.  She has been having a very hard time getting up and down, has not walked with us in over a week.  We really thought she had thrown her back out or it was arthritis, but she did not seem to really be in pain, was eating very well, and was happy.  Her vet was on vacation for a week, and we kept thinking "oh, she's a getting little better."  But she's not.  She has a large mass in her abdomen.  We now have to look into the crystal ball and decide if surgery will fix her and give her a few more years of comfy, happy dog life (a 50% chance) or if we are willing to let them open her up, and put her down if the cancer is inoperable or spreading.  I don't think I could bear the thought of her dying in an operating room without us.  Looking at the x-ray, I think the vet was being optimistic at 50% chance.  Have not heard back from the surgeon yet.  In the mean time, she can still get up to go potty (with a lot of encouragement), is eating like a horse (because she is feeding a massive tumor) and seems very content to have all of us lie next to her and pet her like she does for us when we don't feel well.

So, we wait.  Hopefully we will get a consult with the surgeon next week, and she will not decline in the mean time.

Good Mom/Bad Mom

They say hindsight is 20/20.  In order to clearly see your past, you have to actively look at it.  Deconstruction of your past actions can be a process of true growth, or it can be the worst form of self-indulgent narcissism.  I'm constantly looking back.  "Damn, I could have done that better." or "That is something I'll be fixing in the future." or, "Crap, who's in charge of damage control?"  Sometimes I give myself premature (or timely), undeserved (or honestly earned), pats on the back.  Right now I am swinging on my back porch, beer in hand watching the fire reduce itself to embers - all because the Girl child and company want to roast hot dogs and make s'mores.  I am at a good spot in life when drinking beer alone in front of a fire makes me feel like a Good Mom.

I had a couple of "bad Mommy" moments earlier this week.  The Darling Girl has inherited the unfortunate habit of self-analysis, I'm not always the best sounding board.  Sometimes she is looking for an honest opinion about action or behaviour, and sometimes she wants to know that she is loved unconditionally, that she should never change.  She is a teen ager.  Sometimes I forget that.  Even when I remember, it does not mean I will understand the things any better. Conversations are not the equal give and take of active minds that they once were.  They are not the sharing of advice to enrich her future.  They are freakin' psychological mine fields, and I do not have a map.  I usually know that I went the wrong way when she clams up and gets a little teary.  She invented "I'm fine."  My go to attitude is more: "what-ev-er."  These are not compatible phrase patterns. There are often hurt feelings and shocked confusion hanging about the room, left over after the most seemingly mundane conversations.

I try to remember how my parents coped.  Then I remember.  They drank. A lot.  I'm pretty sure that is not an option for me.  This beer is pretty darn good, though - it is something to ponder.  

New Horizons

When we were children, clouds became animals.
Now that we are adults, the vast, blue sky is a metaphor for the infinite, upward potential of the human spirit.
    - Laura Teresa Marquez

I often say that I am a mediocre (at best) home health therapist.  
This is true.  I love my work, enjoy my patients, I put every bit of education, compassion and caring that I have at my disposal into each treatment.  I feel that this is the kind of care that should always be demanded of your professionals - it is not a standard of care, it is minimal care. I have zero desire to elevate my knowledge base - this is what sets apart the average, run of the mill therapist that has a good job, and a passionate professional, a "top-tier" therapist.    

And then I run off and spend 9 days away from my family learning an in depth specialized area of care that allows me to help a whole underserved population of people, increases my level of expertise, and my knowledge base, and makes me a more marketable professional.
Damn! I was so content going through each day spinning my wheels, acting like a new-grad.  But I love this - and I feel like it will be hugely valuable to my patients, enhance the efficiency of our wound care (like an assist for the nurses), and it is a hands-on type of care that does not kill my old arthritic hands. So now it is rushing around trying to set up a program.  I am inservicing the nurses, trying to figure out suppliers, setting appointments to work with marketing people to let the Docs know we have a program, networking with people all over, and realizing that I may have found a home in home-health.  I may actually get good at this.  I may still be a mediocre home-health therapist, but I plan to be a kick-ass Certified Lymphedema Therapist.

And yeah - I am very tired!  going to be a long week.