wordinista

It looks like my Wednesday is going to start out with a migraine. AWESOME.  I am taking measures to cut it off before it progresses, but that hardly ever works so mostly I'm sitting here until I finish my tea.

Mom took Gramps to the neurologist yesterday, and the news is... not so good.  His MRI showed significant shrinkage in the frontal lobes since his last MRI, which was a year ago August.  The neurologist has since diagnosed him with mid-stage fronto-temporal dementia, which, apparently, is the worst kind of dementia to be diagnosed with.  It doesn't affect memory quite as much as other types of dementia, but rather affecting personality and behavior.  It's progressive, and most patients, after initial diagnosis, have about a 2 year life expectancy.  The neurologist thinks he's had this since last August.  Mom is... understandably upset.  I don't think I've really let it sink in yet.  I sort of don't want to.

I almost didn't go to agility last night, because this news had left us... kind of out of sorts, but in the end I went and had a really good time.  I talked with my agility instructor, Vickie, a breast cancer survivor (who, this time last year, was bald).  She gave me a hug and talked a bit.  "Don't feel guilty for doing the things you like to do," she said.  I told her it wasn't so much guilt that made me almost skip class, but my concern that my head wouldn't be in the game, so to speak.   But... the funny thing is, I've sort of reached a point with agility where when I'm on the course and running obstacles with Darwin, I almost go to a very zen place.  (Well, this happens when we're running WELL. Not when I'm screwing up and giving miscues.)  And even though last night I was a little distracted, and definitely screwed up and gave miscues, I still left class feeling very centered.

In other news, I would like very much to rant about this Roman Polanski BS until the cows come home, because I am thoroughly OUTRAGED at how many people seem to have turned into rape apologists overnight, and am doubly outraged at the media for using what I personally believe is misleading language regarding his crime.  "Having sex with a teenager/minor" conjures a completely different picture than and is NOT the same thing as "drugging and anally raping an adolescent."  And what the shit, do Hollywood A-listers actually believe they are above the law?  HE DRUGGED AND SODOMIZED A THIRTEEN YEAR OLD, GUYS.  LIVING THE HIGH LIFE SKIPPING AROUND EUROPE FOR THIRTY ONE YEARS DOES NOT CONSTITUTE "PUNISHMENT."  HE HAS NOT PAID ANY SORT OF DEBT TO SOCIETY.  COME ON, PEOPLE.  HE IS NOT SOME SORT OF TRAGIC HERO.  HE IS A RAPIST.  SAY IT WITH ME NOW: RAY-PIST.

So, hopefully someone on my f-list will compose a lengthy and vitriolic rant about the subject, because that's about all I can muster -- this headache is looking like I'm going to be out of commission for the rest of the morning.

Dear Grampa:

It would please all ever so much if you could perhaps stay out of the hospital for at least six months at a time. Really.

Love and Kisses,
Your Grandbunneh

SO! Today I was supposed to meet up with the ARPH rep and do a dog (two pups, actually) transport to Orlando. Over the weekend, a potential adopter surfaced and is interested in adopting both, so no doggie-transport today. Instead, I tagged along for an in-home interview of another potential adopter/foster home.

First, though, I met Rosie, the rep. We hit if off immediately and were showing each other pictures of our dogs on our cell phones. Huge amounts of dog geekery everywhere. She's around my age, which made it a little less awkward, and she's... spunky. There's no other word for it. She is absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt spunky.

After the interview, we decided to go and grab some lunch together. Unfortunately, the moment we sat down and we both checked our phones, I saw five calls from George.

This, I know from experience, is a bad sign.

So I called him back, and Mom answered, and she explained that Gramps was going to the hospital again and George was driving her and then went into an in-detail account of Gramps' symptoms, which are largely flu-like, except a bit more intense, and she hasn't been able to get them under control.

Rosie drives me back to the car, we agree to do lunch some other time, and I haul ass to the hospital.

I'm home now, for the time being -- the pups need to be let out and my body had been starting to digest itself. Now I've eaten, and will take the dogs out.

Not the kind of excitement I really enjoy on my Monday, y'know?

First of all: I love you guys.

Grampa is doing better! He has spent most of today in a room in the Emergency Treatment Center (which is the fancy name for the ER), and then a holding room -- they're keeping him overnight so they can run some more in depth tests, since not many of the ER tests are showing much of anything. However, he was more lucid during my last visit which was around 8 PM, so that's good.

Um. I'm pretty unbelievably exhausted, so I'm going to go faceplant somewhere, I think. I just wanted to give a little update and say thank you for all the kind words and positive vibes. ♥

Well, grampa's situation has... been interesting to say the least. For anyone who doesn't know, he took a tumble back on the 27th, and a trip to the ER revealed a compression fracture in his lower back. Wednesday morning started with him not being able to sit up or roll over or ANYTHING -- at least, not without a great deal of pain. Mom called 911, and the paramedics put him on a straight board (I can't think of the name of it -- what's it called?) and brought him in to the hospital. Mom said that getting him on the board was hell -- he was in a lot of pain, but once he was on it, he was all right.

Once in the hospital, they took another round of X-rays, which showed no change from the first set. Then came the MRI and bone scan, which revealed a compression fracture in the L-1 disc. He's in a sort of... I guess they call it a corset? It's stabilizing his back. He's on strict bed rest while he heals (which he had not been doing because... well, because he's a guy and an ex-Marine too).

We're trying to keep our heads about this, since injuries like that in a man his age can lead to scary complications.

As for personal health, I'm feeling better as far as the cough goes. I do need to go see a doctor, though. I can still hear my pulse in my ear, and it's wigging me out. And I still have gunk in my lungs. But the gunk is considerably better -- I've done some hard-core cleaning over the past few days, including steam-cleaning the rugs, which I so totally recommend to anyone, because it makes everything smell SO GOOD. Or... well, clean. So a large part of the problem was probably allergy related, though hopefully not Darwin related. :)

I've been giving serious consideration to selling my car. It's kind of old (1994 Mustang), and it's seen better days, but someone could probably do something with it if they were willing to put a little elbow grease into it, but... I dunno. My uncle does a lot with cars; he could probably advise me.

Ugh. Just took D-bear out for a walk. Who said it could be this hot today? Okay, it's Florida, but still. And speaking of Florida, yay for the fun barrage of fire ants discovering my ankle while I was trying to scoop poop AND keep Darwin from jerking my arm out of its socket!