Sylken Threads

[Sylk]

Sylken Threads


Hi There.  For those of you who don't know me, I'm Sylk.  I work as a vet tech in an animal ER.  A great deal of my venting has to do with what happens there, but also with family issues, general life and what not.  While much of what I post might be sad, there are also happy things.  I will tell you though that each and every post is honest.  So, take it for what you will.

My thanks,
Sylk
MISSY
Or how I know now why I do is what I was meant to do

On January 28, 1998 a young man came to us asking that we examine a female Pit Bull he was looking to purchase from the current owners. He told us that she had a skin condition and that he wanted to know how much it would take to “make her right” before he purchased her. So we put the young man in the large exam room with the dog to wait as he filled out his registration forms and so on.

Upon entering the room some minutes later, I was struck with the intense odor that was coming from this poor dog. There are several odors a person who works with companion animals never forgets once experiencing them. One is the odor of  a dog suffering from Canine Parvovirus Enteritis (parvo).  That is the smell of rotting fless… such as bad hamburger coupled with the smell of fecal matter and other assorted nasties.  The other is something I call the “skin smell”.  It is the odor of infected and rotting flesh on the outside of the body of an animal. Usually this is caused by secondary staph and bacterial infections brought on by something else.  THIS is the smell that hit me.

There on the floor of the exam room, as I entered, wanting nothing more than to be loved and wanted, stood Missy.  A tan and white American Pit Bull with the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen.  Friendly as could be, she wobbled over to me and sat down with those wonderful eyes staring up at me as if to say, “hello, will you love me?”  I wanted to cry and scoop her up in my arms all at once.

This poor, beautiful, suffering dog was covered head to tail with sores. Open, weeping and bleeding in many places, and in fewer-scabbed over but weepy still.  There was almost no fur on her body save her immediate face. It was the most horrid skin case I had ever witnessed.  The amount of time she had been left alone and untreated for the primary cause of this plight had to be extensive. Several months to at year probably. Most likely, Missy had contracted Demodectic Mange as a new puppy and it had been left untreated all this time.  What sat at my feet before me this day was the result.  Holding back tears I could do nothing but love her. Though her condition was so ugly that it hurt to look at, Missy was a beautiful dog. On top of all this, Missy was also terribly thin. More than likely she had internal parasites and poor diet loaded on top of this neglect.  Amazingly, she still wanted people. She still sought love and affection. It was amazing and completely alien to me how any animal could still have that capacity after this kind of life.

To treat Missy, and get her back to reasonable health would cost several hundreds of dollars in medications, medicated baths and special diets. It would be months before she even got her fur back if we treated her.  The young man contemplated this for several minutes.  This young man, with all his kind intentions, did not have that kind of money. Neither did I. Had I the money or the means, I would have taken Missy and treated her here at the clinic.  The young man then stated flatly that he couldn’t take her back to the owners, since he knew they would only tie her back outside in the cold and leave her to die.  He then did the only thing he felt he could do. He asked us to put Missy to sleep.

Of all the things I do in my job, putting an animal down is always the most difficult. I feel some of those for days. This one will haunt me for the rest of my life.  Knowing this poor tortured animal had reached outside its pain and suffering, yet gone beyond her horrible treatment to not hate all humans, made this decision seem so damned unfair.  Many times, when I think about it now, it still seems that way.

I stayed in the room and held Missy as we administered the overdose of barbituates which would release her from this life.  I looked into her beautiful green eyes and told her it would all be okay.  It would soon end and she would not hurt anymore.  Then she slipped into her permanent sleep. As I laid her head down, white-hot fire shot through me. My skin burned so hot I choked back a startled scream. I gripped the exam table to stay upright and closed my eyes.  Then, as fast as it hit, it was gone.  I knew then that this had been the right decision for Missy.  She gave me the gift of releasing me from guilt as we had released her from her horror.

When the client left the office, he’d asked that we take care of Missy’s body for him.  I had her privately cremated and her ashes returned as the only gift I had to give her.   I still see her in my dreams and in my mind’s eye from time to time. She follows me as a reminder that sometimes, that which makes us feel sorrow, also makes us human.

Being human is the most difficult thing sometimes…….

[Mordred]

*gives Sylk a huge hug*

Sometimes I wish I could flip a switch inside. Even a little inner radar to warn when such a moment would be best. And yet, as you say, that which makes us feel makes us human. It's a strange mixture of feeling, which is a wonderful thing.. and those harsh times when those very special parts of our minds seem to flood the entire self with excruciating pain. I sometimes wonder if I worked in an area that emotions come into play, would I become hardened.. thinking I'd want to.. yet now I'm not so sure.

Not that I am human.. *grins*.. but I remember.

[Sylk]

I have been doing this for 15 years.  I have had as many as 9 animals in my home and as few as 1.  I have fostered, taken in, and put down enough of my own in that time that I can tell you while there is a certain amount of learned emotional detachment, it doesn't get easier.  I still cry when I put down an animal, even a stray. I still sing to them as they slip from this world. I made a promise to myself a very long time ago that if what I did ever became easy, unemotional, too commonplace or I couldn't cry for those I couldn't help, it was time to seek something else.  I stand by that.

If I don't do what I do, who will?  Who will speak for those who cannot speak for themselves?  Who will be bitten, chewed up like a steak, undergo rabies post exposure vaccines, carry scars for years and suffer nerve damage in the name of the helpless if I do not?

Could you?

Sylk

[Mordred]

Yikes, I don't think I could. I haven't dealt much with animals, being allergic to cats and dogs when I was younger. Although when I was little, I had a dachshund (a miniature, black, and adorable).. he was hit by a car about a month after I had him. For years whenever I thought of him, it would make me cry. My only recent experience with pets is a cat who visits on occasion. (also black, a kitten) She is also adorable but has this pesky attraction to my feet. :)

[Oreo]

Sylk, that was so touching. At the same time I was filled with unfathomable anger that someone would allow an animal to suffer that much in the first place. Thank you for sharing both the beauty of humanity and the shame of betrayal to our fellow creatures. I think it will be a while before my tears dry. I have always had animals. Mostly strays or feral cats. Our pride of cats now measures seven, but they have good treatment and all the love they deserve.

One of our precious adolescent cats is at the vet this very night. Something managed to catch it by the tail and tore the skin off the last inch, leaving nothing but bone. We are on a limited income and the vet quoted a price that was double what we had on hand. I can't tell you how grateful we were when he said he would do the procedure for what we had. There is still good in this get rich society. Thank you again for sharing your story. *bookmarked*

[Sylk]

Thank you Oreo.  There are so many more.... which, after reading over last night, I was sobbing.  Some of them have been years ago, like Missy.  Some, I haven't had the time or the inclination to write about.  There isn't a shift that goes by when I don't want to just smack the stupid out of someone for their ignorance or unfathomable ability to not care because it's "just a dog" or "just a cat" or what ever pet it might be. 

Pets are a privilege, not a right. Just as are children.  They should be treated as such.  In my opinion anyway.

And with that.... I move to the post for today....

[Sylk]

The throw away child

In September or October 7 years ago this coming Fall, my stepson came to live with us.  He is now 18 and graduates with his class tonight.... Barely.   His mother never finished High School.  She married my husband, now her ex, and he had saved himself for marriage.  Not something men typically do these days.  She treated him like garbage every day.  A child of an abusive father, physically, sexually and mentally, she had major issues. She still does. She treats everyone as if she's entitled to everything, should have to do nothing productive in her life and takes affront to having to actually work for a living.  I can't stand her.

The next husband she married is equally physically abusive to both her and the kids.  At age 12, Chris was finally big enough and brave enough to stand up for himself after a belt beating and hit back.  He hit back a lot.  His mother freaked out and called my husband telling him she had to send him to some reticent child boot camp where they break kids because she couldn't handle it.  Without thinking when my husband told me this I said; "oh hell no she's not. He will live here."  We live in a small house.  My youngest was not born yet. We have 2 bedrooms and 1 bath.  We made room.

This woman sent him here with everything he had EXCEPT his bedroom furniture, his tv, vcr or gameboy.  This included clothes he couldn't wear because he had outgrown them a year ago.  A friend went with my husband to pick Chris and his things up.  Just to make sure the situation didn't get ugly.  Our friend is rather an impressively loud and violent man when angered.  We tend not to anger him if at all possible.

So, Chris came to live with us.  AS soon as he was out of the house, his mother rented out his room.  WE still pay her child support for a kid who has not lived with her for almost 7 years, but I wont' even go there right now.  For a full year or more, this woman did not call, write or bother to inquire about her son.  He got in fights, he played the victim. He got suspended so many times I thought he'd be expelled two years in a row. He'd start out the year with A's and plumet to F's by mid term.  We went to parent teacher conferences until I was almost vomiting before each one it made me so upset. WE got Chris a therapist.  I took him 3 times a month for 8 months, then 2 times a month for a year.  It helped some, not a lot, but at least he wasn't picking a fight anymore... we thought.  For nearly two years, there wasn't a day that I didn't pray for my family back.  But Chris was mine now and I would do what I had to do in order to prepare him for the world, live as a decent person and have a real life with love and security he hadn't had before.  If it killed me. 

I started taking antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications.  Finally, the Ex called to ask if Chris could come visit.  He went up for a weekend.  He had to sleep on the floor because they had no where for him to sleep.  I was livid.  I spoke to his therapist about it.  He spoke to Chris after the visit as he had started acting out again.  In the man's opinion, Chris didn't need to go see that woman again unless it was supervised visitation and he offered to sign the request for a judge if we needed it.  He wouldn't tell us why, but when Chris came home with cigarette burns on his arm after another visit, I understood.

Over the years, while I have not been told quite so much that I am not "my real mom", it has been inferred. I treat him with the same love as my natural sons and the rules have not changed here.  The expectations are the same.  Chris can now carry on a conversation with most anyone where he used one word verbalization for everyone before.  He can operate a microwave, toaster oven, make burgers and mac and cheese on his own.  He has played in leaves, learned to shoot archery and find joy in it.  He paints models, plays D&D every other weekend and actually has friends.  We built him his own room in the basement.  It's not grand or large, but it is his space and what we could afford to do.  One year he got me a mother's day card but not his real mom.  I cried.

So, while Chris may have been thrown away by his real mom, another took his place.  This one is still dealing with being thrown into adolescence with a child rather than growing into it.  I am still trying to understand how one can forget to put a book in a book bag with homework when at one's locker between classes and bring it home.  I am still trying to wrap my brain around how to get through to someone who honestly probably didn't care to live or die when he first arrived.  Now, said real mom wishes to usurp his graduation night by taking him somewhere before the ceremony.  I put my foot down here.  Sorry hon, but *I* am his mom now. You threw him away.  We will spend tonight as a family, proud to watch him walk across the stage for 15 seconds and get his diploma. Proud to see he has made it this far with so much farther to go and wonder how we will ever prepare him.  OUR family.  He belongs here now.

Sylk

[Oniya]

Yes.  Yes, he does.  Mr. Oniya also lived with a step-father for a large part of his life - even after both of them have passed, he refers to his blood-parent as 'my father' and his mother's second husband as 'Dad'.

[Sylk]

dogs and cats and pets, oh MY!

I work as a Veterinary Technician and have for about 15 years now. I love what I do.  I started in day practice and eventually moved to an animal ER where I live.  The hours are long, unusual and the pay isn't all that great but better than some. I have been proud to have as many as 5 cats, 5 parrots, 2 dogs in my home. Currently the count is 5 cats, 1 parrot and 1 dog.  Two years ago, after my parent's 50th wedding anniversary, I put my 18 year old white Persian cat to sleep.  She had cancer, she'd been getting weak and told me it was time.  I still miss that little bloomer butt.  Her flouncing way of walking away in a pout.  Goddess she was the princess. She would pee on your stuff if she didn't like you.  Never once did she pee on anything of my husband's. Though she peed on my ex's den rug and all his papers he left on the floor.  She peed on my ex-boyfriend's backpack one night.  should have listened to her on both counts.   Three weeks after that my oldest dog was vomiting.  Now, Phantom had a history of eating baby socks and then puking them up later or passing them. So at first I thought it was a sock.  But when it didn't pass, didn't come up, I brought him to work.  We Xrayed him and I was thinking that I'd have to cut him open to get a sock. I was wrong.  Phantom had cancer.  It was everywhere.  It broke my heart to put him down. I had bottle fed him, adopted him out then taken him back in when the first owner couldn't keep him.  He was the best dog ever.  The only thing he chewed up as a puppy was the remote for my tv at the time.  He tried so hard to be a good dog.  He even guarded my apartment when I moved away from my exhusband and that ex started stalking me.  The sad thing is, I don't have that many pictures of him.  I have a few, but not many. Most all of the 'pictures' of Phantom reside in my heart.  So I held him and sung to him as Dr. Paul put him down that night.  I had him cremated. I have had all mine cremated since I lost my first cat while living in New Orleans.  This is the first writing I have done about him since I put him down.  Once in a while, my 8 year old will say... "Mommy, I really miss Phantom."  I miss him too.  More than I could ever have known I might.  Three days after Phantom was gone, my oldest parrot was dead in the bottom of her cage.  She was 16.  It was a very rough Fall.  There will be no more "whatcha DOING?", "Bayou is a pretty birrrrd", or "I'm sorry" echoing in my home.

This morning I am typing this from work. While I am here watching over two patients, there are no doctors.  They are being baby sat mostly in case.  If something were to happen, I can easily call a nearby doctor for here and have them here in 10 minutes, put them on speaker phone and do what ever they need me to do while I wait for them to arrive.  Been doing this long enough that I can tell you sometimes if what I am caring for will leave the hospital.

So as I am at work, a few things occur to me;

Everyone should have a pet first aid kit.  The things inside that kit should include:
digital thermometer
bottle of hydrogen peroxide
turkey baster or boston round like you get at Sally's to dye your hair with.
The numbers for:

ANIMAL POISON CONTROL
     1-888-426-4435

this is run by the ASPCA and exists totally on donations and the fee they charge for their services.  If you have to call them, you will get a case number a doctor's name and a return call back number.  These are important.  Take them, and your pet to the vet. Your regular one during the day or an after hours place if need be.  This way, the veterinary facility will know what to do for your pet, you won't be charged again for the time and services from the poison hotline and your pet will get the best care for the situation.

the second number I know little about.... other than it costs less than the APC number;

Pet Poison Hotline
1-800-213-6680

I don't know what group runs this, but it seems to have a great deal of knowledge as well.

The reason these places cost?    Big pharmaceutical companies don't give them money to operate as they do the human poison control places.  They don't support animal health in the way they do human health, nor do they actually seem to give a crap about pets.  So if you have to use either of the numbers, keep this in mind. They have ridiculous amounts of data at their disposal from the touch of a fingertip. They have multiple doctors who work the lines and they will fax follow up information if they find it to the vet treating your pet just in case.  We use them a great deal.  I stand by them.

Now, some of you are going to ask why put hydrogen peroxide and a turkey baster in your pet first aid kit?  You can successfully make your pet vomit with those things.  No, I am not kidding and yes, it's safe. I promise, it will come back up.  As long as what your pet has ingested isn't: glass, pins, sharp like bones, bones themselves, bone fragments or something long and skinny enough to get lodged sideways in his throat, puke 'em.  Feed that sucker enough to empty their stomach.  Pick through it with a stick if it's pills or something small to make sure it came up.  Once your pet has the dry heaves, DO NOT give anything to eat or drink for about 4-6 hours.  Their poor little stomachs are in reverse and need time to reset.  After they vomit, depending on what they ate, seek veterinary care immediately.  Some things such as rat poison or medications have residual effects and should be treated for.

Trust me. I dont' know how many times I had to make Phantom vomit for getting into the bathroom trash. (use your imagination here... I won't paint a picture.)  Now, if you are unable to get your pet to vomit after about 15 minutes, OR you are farther away from your vet than an hour's drive.... forego it. Pack up your pet in a crate, put them on a leash, whatever, but get them to the vet NOW.  Don't wait.  Certain toxins are fatal after a certain amount of time.  If you have a question, call a vet, call the poison control hotline, call someone with actual veterinary knowledge. Not the breeder down the road, the lady across the street... call a professional.  Your pet's life just might depend on it.

There are many medications/drugs that are really REALLY bad for pets.  Of that list, and this is by no means complete, they include:

Tylenol
Aspirin
Advil
Aleeve
Peptobismal (now contains acetaminophen or tylenol)
Most anti depressants
Most heart and blood pressure medications (unless prescribed for your pet specifically)
ADHD/ADD medications
Anti psychotics
marijuana
Meth
K2 ('legal marijuana' will flat out kill your pet)
alcohol (some people think it's cute to feed their pet beer and the like)
hydrocodone of any kind
anti-anxiety medications
RAT POISON - MUST be treated even if pet vomits.  signs don't occure until it's too late to help your pet!!

Now.... all this being said, I personally don't care if you do drugs in your home.  I DO CARE if your pet could have gotten into them.  I can't HELP them if I don't know what I'm treating.  So be honest with your vet and their staff.  They are there for your pet, not you.

Chocolate is also toxic to dogs. But... it's a formula.  Certain types of chocolate have more caffeine and theobromide (the drug in chocolate which gives euphoria after eating it.) in it.  The formula goes something like this. X ounces of type of chocolate divided by weight in Kilograms of pet = toxic or not symptoms.  Now if your 85 pound Labrador eats a tray of cupcakes, it will most likely have the runs for a day or so, might be more hyper than normal and crash hard when the sugar runs out.  But if your 3 pound teacup Yorkie ate a whole Hershey's dark chocolate bar.... They are dead if they don't get help ASAP.
If your pet ate chocolate and is already vomiting, it needs to go to the vet now. right now, not after work, after you finish your soup (yes, I was told that once), after your show is over. NOW.  Too much can and will kill your pet.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE    Don't buy your vaccines from a feed store of magazine.  If you have to buy them to save money on the shots, then maybe you should reconsider having a pet you can take care of.  Around here, breeders give the first round. New owners walk away with their new pet thinking they are completely up to date on their shots.  Well, they are... FOR THAT AGE.  puppy shots start at 8 weeks and should be given every 3 weeks thereafter until the pet has had 3 to 4 sets depending on the breed of dog.  Rabies vaccines are given around 16 weeks, and in some states as early as 12 weeks.  NO ONE other than a licensed vet can purchase rabies vaccines and no one other than that vet should administer them.  Cat vaccines start at about 8-10 weeks and they get 2-3 depending.  All cats should be tested for FIV and FELV.  ALL domesticated animals are required by state and federal laws to have a current RABIES vaccine. Even if they never leave the house.  If your pet bites someone and you are unable to prove a current rabies vaccine the health department can and will quarantine your pet for a minimum of 10 days.  In some cases, they will require rabies testing and there is only ONE way to do that.  You will seal your pet's fate in death if you neglect current rabies vaccines.  It's that simple.  Rabies is contagious to any and all mammals.  This means humans.  POST exposure rabies treatment runs in the 20k area for a single person.  As the owner of the biting pet you would be responsible to pay for the person's treatment. 

So, now that my rant/helpful notations are over.... feel free to holler at me.  Just remember, the internet, myself or someone who works for a vet is not a substitute for the veterinarian who spent 8 years in school studying for their DVM.  If it is a concern, it is worth the time and the money to have it checked.  Peace of mind is worth a great deal more than guilt from not doing anything at all....

Peace
Sylk

[Chelemar]

Your piece on MISSY
made me cry.

All of our dogs are rescue dogs. 

Our oldest dog, Chach, was an older puppy, abused, shy, afraid of people, the owner was going to put her down... but we took her in.  She is still somewhat shy and takes a bit to warm up to people, but her devotion and love for people shines through her large doe eyes.  Also, when I am ill, she knows it and will lay beside me or beside my bed to keep watch over me.

Our middle dog, Beau, we got him at 3 weeks... his mother stopped nursing and the owner couldn't take care of all of the puppies.  So, it was shifts of every two hours with the baby.  Half pit-bull, I wasn't sure about the breed.  Never having had a pit and knowing they needed their own sort of raising.  He is the smartest, most gentle, lovable boy. And at 3 years old still sleeps with the blankey we kept him rapped in those first few weeks.  He holds it between his front paws and nurses it until he falls asleep. 

Then there is the wild child of the bunch.  Her mother quit nursing at 5 weeks.  The owners too were looking for a foster just to nurse maid.  Yeah, well... a year later.  She's the light of my mum's eyes, though just a little bit of a thing compared to the collie and pit/black lab, we fondly refer to her as kick dog.  Though, that's mostly to hear my mum yell. ;D

[Sylk]

The Worst Kind of Fear

Our house is roughly a 10 minute walk from the school my son attends.  It actually takes longer to get in the car, drive down, go through the turn around to drop him off than it does to walk there and back.  School lets out at 2:15pm.  My son walks home slowly with his friends, picking up smooth stones, finding caterpillars and balancing on the curb as they walk together.  So he gets home around 2:40 or so.  I slept most of the day today in order to work the overnight shift tonight. I awoke at 2:30, hot, sticky and feeling foggy.  at 3pm my son had not come home yet.  I sent my step son to cruise the circle looking for him.  Nothing.  Frantic, I got dressed as fast as I could, put my hair in a baseball cap, and fairly flew to the car.  I drove the circle, the circle below us, the neighborhoods around the school. Nothing.  In tears and screaming his name I round the hill to the turn for our part of the circle and see him coming out the back door of a classmate's house.  In the most angry voice I have, I tell him to get his pack and get in the car.  we ride the 5 houses to our drive and I pull in.  I am shaking horribly, tears streaming down my face, my son is sobbing because he's in trouble. 

Once in the house, I explain to him that he had scared me terribly.  I am happy he has so many friends and glad they all play together, but he is to come home first so I know where he will be.  It would happen that this kid is the only one my son plays with whose phone number I don't have.   i explained to him as calmly as I was able just what I thought could have happened and how people can trick children into going with them in order to hurt them.  I told him how I would never forgive myself if something happened to him and how I would be lost and sad always.  We talked and cried and he is now grounded for a while. 

For those who don't have children, it's a difficult kind of love to explain.  But as a mom, the most horrible fear I have is someone taking one of my sons and hurting them or keeping them.  I have on very few occasions been so frightened about losing someone I love.  I was blessed to have my sons at ages 39 and 44.  Before them, I had 8 miscarriages.   That kind of loss.... for me would end my world.

[Oreo]

I am so glad it turned out okay, Sylk. That kind of terror consumes you. I have been there more than once or twice, wondering where my kids got off to. My youngest was in the habit of taking a nap anywhere he happened to get sleepy. We found him in several unusual places, including inside a circular rack of clothes at the department store. Granted this was back in the 70's when times weren't quite as scary as today, but it still got my heart thinking it was an A-bomb ready to go off.

[Oniya]

I am so glad it turned out okay, Sylk. That kind of terror consumes you. I have been there more than once or twice, wondering where my kids got off to. My youngest was in the habit of taking a nap anywhere he happened to get sleepy. We found him in several unusual places, including inside a circular rack of clothes at the department store. Granted this was back in the 70's when times weren't quite as scary as today, but it still got my heart thinking it was an A-bomb ready to go off.

Hey, those circular racks made the best forts!

I had a similar incident with the little Oni - we'd already had the talk about strangers, but it was a case of not knowing that she'd gone inside a house and which of those friends it was.  After a mild grounding, we came up with a system where she knocks on the basement window to ask us if she can go into

• 's house.  (The answer is usually yes, unless we've got dinner almost ready, but it's the asking that's important.)

[Sylk]

Week of Unexplained Sadness

This week has been one of unexplained bouts of sadness.  Be that as it may, every time I look in the mirror I want to vomit.  That's really nothing new.  But this week it's been worse.  I can't remember anything.  My brain is muddled, my self esteem what little I actually have, is in the sewer.  Welcome to Menopause... you can have this shit.  I hate it.

I'm not sleeping well.  Stupid little things are frustrating me and I feel like I'm just going to explode for no reason at any given point in the day.  It's been horribly hot and I'm not getting much done around the house either.  I feel like I need a good cry, but I just don't have the energy.

I'm fighting the realization that my now oldest cat is fast becoming weak and feeling badly. Though he won't tell me that just yet. He's still begging for things like chips, but his back legs have lost a great deal of muscle mass.  He's 17 now and I know who waits for him. It's killing me to think about it.  But, I don't want to be that owner who has let a pet suffer too long.  There is such a fine line.  If one of the more sympathetic doctors I work with is on tonight I might take him in for a look.  I don't want to, but I know I have to.  I want to be the one who grants their pet that gift of peace and grace at the end. Not suffering for my sake.  My poor little muffin.....who has always been afraid of everything but me........

Yeah, it's been a bad week.  So if I have said or done something to hurt or upset you, please forgive me.  It's been bad enough I'm not even sure I'd remember what I did or said.

Sylk

[elone]

So sorry about your cat, as someone in the vet business you know not to let your friend suffer, no matter how much you want to hold onto him. I went through that with my terrier a few years ago. He was 14 and I had him since he was a pup. He developed cancer in glands in this throat. Went through all kinds of therapies even some experimental trials trying to stop it, but to no avail. He seemed comfortable enough, but it was just a matter of time. We kept in close contact with the vet to monitor him for any distress and know when to make that fateful decision. Like you, I did not want my boy to suffer needlessly for my own desire to keep him with me. I took him for a walk and then held him in my arms and the shot did its work. I still miss him. He has a beautiful spot under a wild cherry tree in a garden I made for him. I often sit on a bench there and talk to him. I know that sounds a bit crazy but I find it comforting.

Hope you are able to find a way to let go, knowing that you have done all humanly possible to ease suffering and show him your love daily.

Hugs for you both

[Sylk]

ugh

So Thursday I was having a horrid day.  My antidepressants are no longer working as they should. I can't remember shit, I get really angry fast, I'm sleeping all the time, my hands, ankles and face are all swollen, I have numbness in my arms and hands from time to time, my vision has changed horribly in the last year, and there are a few other things I won't even go into.  Low and behold I talk to my sister for a while later that night.  Seems these can all be thyroid related.  While I'm not losing clumps of hair or have thinning bald spots on my head, the other symptoms fit quite well in the graph.  I was also borderline hypothyroid at last checkup about a year ago.

My biggest anxieties come from when something is going on with me and I can't find an answer.  I was to have my doctor apt on the 30th of this month, but it had to be moved until July due to my doctor being on vacation for the MONTH. sheeesh. Wish I could do that.  So I'm waiting another 3 weeks to be seen and doing the best I can in dealing with my issues which are creeping up and smacking me from behind in the head. 

Bear with me folks.  I do my level best to not take stuff out on friends and family, but sometimes I have no outside filter.  So if I say something that bothers you, tell me.  It is entirely possible I won't even know I've said it, or that it might have hurt.

My thanks.
Sylk

[Sylk]

The Blanket

When I was a little girl, I had a pink blanket with a satin ribbon all the way around it.  It wasn't huge, but it was big enough to trail behind me as I dragged it along.  I was very attached to it.  When I turned 5 (my birthday is late in the year), my mother decided that since kindergarten wouldn't let me in if I carried a blanket everywhere, she was going to get rid of it for me and I was going to learn a lesson.

This was back in the days when most garbage was paper, tin/aluminum or glass. Very little was plastic or had plastic labels so you could burn your trash in a yard incinerator.

One afternoon, my mother took me, the trash, a pair of scissors and my blanket down to the incinerator.  It was essentially a big metal barrel with holes in the sides that we put our trash in. lit and let burn.  Mother took my blanket and but it in half.  She then tossed that half into the burning trash and made me stand there to watch it as it burned.  The following week, the same ritual ensued.  Little by little the leavings of the blanket were cut in half and burned before my eyes until about a 2X2 inch square remained.  This she pasted in my baby book as a reminder.  It still makes me sad to think about.

I grew attached to other things... stuffed animals especially. I had a favorite scottie dog complete with a little plaid doggie coat.  It disappeared one day.  About a week later I found it in a cabinet my mom didn't think I knew about.  I got it out and hid it in my room.  My mother found it of course and after that it was gone from the house for good.  I'll never understand why she felt I couldn't be allowed to become attached to them.  I still have several of my stuffed animals from my childhood, ones I was very careful not to let mom know I was very attached to.  I don't know what lesson she needed me so desperately to learn.  To me it seems rather cruel.

For this reason, while my boys have entirely too many stuffed animals or toys they are attached to, I put them up only when they are outgrown.  The most precious ones will go in boxes eventually to be saved for them later in life if they still want them. But I can't see myself being that cruel to my boys over things which will run their course eventually......

I say this as my 3 year old has more stuffed animals in his bed than he has room for, my 8 year old still has his 'cuddly' blanket if he's very frightened in a storm.  We all need these things in some form when the world crashes down upon us.  The form matters not.  So until they are ready, they keep what comforts them.  They spend so little time these days as children, I am willing to give them as much as I can of childhood in my own way.

Sylk

[Athos]

As I read your post I couldn't help but be reminded of my father. He had some of the same idea that your mother had from what I can gather. I think the idea (from their point of view, not mine) is that being a good parent means making sure your child is strong and who doesn't put stock in (what they believe to be) silly notions of sentimentality and attachment. After all, good things never last right? In the end though, at least in my experience, these kinds of 'cruel to be kind' actions don't make for a stronger person in adulthood. Instead they teach you to mistrust everything and everybody. At least that's how I see it.

Anyway, I'm sending hugs to you my sweet Sylk and lots of love. That's not a great childhood memory to have.

-hugs-

Athos

[Sylk]

Foudn a wonderful artist tonight... and an amazing song....

Christina Perri;  "Jar of Hearts"

Christina Perri - Jar of Hearts Official Video


amazing

[Sylk]

There is a special kind of hell

For people who are cruel to animals, children and the elderly.  Saturday night as I was leaving work after 17 hours, a hound dog came in.  His throat had been slashed on purpose by the owner's neighbor.  The guy had goaded the dog to get up on the fence that seperated them, then bodily hauled the animal up and over to slash it's throat. Then he went after the neighbors.  All I have to say is what the Frack is up with people these days?  I mean really... REALLY?  who is raising kids now?  Don't they know that people who start out doing horrible things to bugs and animals end up like Jeffry Dhamer?  It's a proven fact.  The guy is in jail under 75thousand dollars bond. cash only.  And since the guy is an addict, with friends only when he's shelling out his dope, he'll likely stay in there.

Then there's the woman locally who was recently acquitted for killing her child willfully.  I look for her to get shanked inside jail and good riddance to her.

There's a kid down the street that my son plays with who is allowed to dress and act like a little thug.  I don't like him. But my son does.  The kid's mother is ok, but his dad is a chauvinistic jackoff and unfortunately, the mother doesn't have enough hupspa to stand up to the dad and raise the kid with any sense of respect for others. I look for him to be in and out of jeuvenile centers around middle school age or a little more.  Yeah, he's that bad. I don't even like it when he's in my house.

I work with animals because really, as I get older, I become less of a people person. *shrug*

Just my opinion and everyone has one.

Sylk

[Oniya]

It's probably saying something that when I googled 'The more I like my dog', I found - not simply the famous quote - but a total of three songs with the same theme.

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/carrieunderwood/moreboysimeet.html
http://www.poemhunter.com/song/i-like-my-dog/
http://www.cowboylyrics.com/lyrics/burgess-sonny/more-im-around-some-people-the-more-i-like-my-dog-16915.html

[Sylk]

Denial - Not just a River in Egypt

Sometimes it's not about how much money something would cost.  Sometimes it's about what is possible no matter what the cost or the resources.  Last night and tonight we had a dog as a patient whose owners are deaf.  They do read lips some, one has hearing aids, but I never asked how much he hears with them, and they sign.  I took 2 years of sign. I did this because my sister and brother in law have a daughter (now 5) who is severely hard of hearing and when she was diagnosed at the age of 2, they refused to think their precious princess was anything but absolutely normal. 

For those of you unfamiliar with deaf culture or Deaf culture (yes, there is a difference), communication from hearing parents to the deaf or hard of hearing child is usually little to none.  Mostly because the parent is in denial, won't or can't be bothered to make the effort to communicate with their less than perfect child... the list is endless.  I decided that I couldn't begin to understand a parent who wouldn't bother to want to communicate with their child so I signed up for ASL classes when I found out about my niece.  I did pretty well as long as I was in classes and had a reason to practice.

Now, I've not used my sign in 2 years. I barely remember what I learned and real live DEAF people who sign faster than most people speak are hard to read the signs of ...... so I failed miserably and we went to writing stuff on paper.

Their Australian Cattle dog is now in DIC.  Disseminated Intravascular Coagulation.  Throwing clots throughout the body within the veins and capillaries.  It's a horrible and painful death to watch.  They are trying a transfusion, but more than likely it won't work.  The owners said it's not a money issue and to try everything.  Unfortunately, it's not about money.  It's not about resources.  It's about what is physically possible for us to fix.  And in this case, Death is going to win.  I hate it.  These folks are so sweet and I have made fast friends with them. I tried to get them to understand that no matter what we do, they might lose him.  They don't want to lose their dog.  I don't want them to lose him either. None of us do.  But it's not about what we want. It's not about how dedicated we are.... and I hate it.  HATE it.  I'm going to get a call sometime later this morning (It's 2:35am EDT now) telling me that he died and would I please text the owners to let them know.  I want to crawl under a rock.  I can't make this one better.  Why is it that the really nice animals with really amazing owners are the ones that suffer and the ones who bite, claw and try to eat you have the meanest pains in the ass as owners... never seem to suffer like the nice ones?

*sighs*
Sylk

[Athos]

That's a tough one :(. I know the feeling of helplessness you get when you know there's nothing more to be done and its a terrible one. I was just thinking that maybe the reason why the nice ones seem to hold on longer is because they are so loved and that gives them the strength to keep fighting where the ones who aren't just give up. It sounds kinda dumb, but I wonder... As always, if you need a friendly ear you know where to find me. :)

-huggles-

Athos

[Sylk]

"I spent a week there one afternoon"..

My apologies to Harry Chapin for copping his explanation.....

Sunday: I go to the clinic on my night off to pick up a baby Kestrel falcon, see what's wrong with him.  Kestrels do this really odd flop thing when they are young and something they are not familiar with scares them. Like a human, or a car or whatever.  Bird is unharmed, mentally alert and all limbs function normally. So I take him home, feed him and let him go the next day. Second stepson who does NOT live with us comes to stay the week. Making my life that week a living hell.

Tuesday: Husband barely misses being t-boned in the parkinglot of Office Max and then not an hour later, the SAME woman who barely missed him before going forward backs into him in the same parkinglot.  Paint and aggravation damage only to car.  On my way to work I am walking out to the car and I find him squashed dead in the road next to my car in front of the house.  Bawled all the way to work. Still feel it's my fault, like I missed something.

Wednesday:  Take kids to pool Older two sit outside pool like lumps and are encouraged to jump in where it's less hot and they might actually have fun. Oldest bitches me out because the "only reason I came is because I thought you'd be running errands and you needed me to be in charge of the little ones."

Thursday; record heat. Sewed like mad. Made a bunch of garb for Pennsic.  Oldest cat didn't come down for breakfast or dinner and didn't beg. NOT a good sign.

Friday; Thrown under the bus by one of the now new managing doctors at work, didn't sleep. Came home, stayed up talking to a friend who really needed an ear.

Today; Took oldest cat (18 years) to work and had the substitute doctor for the day (who is also my dear friend) put him down while I held him.  Cried the whole time.  Am having him cremated.

Yeah.... It's been a year of a week this week.  So if I've been short with you.... consider the source and move on.
Brownie points to anyone who got the title reference and what song it introduces by Harry Chapin.

Sylk

[Sylk]

once we fix them... then what?

We send them home to suffer the same fate?  Yeah. Sometimes.  It kills me.  Monday night a cat came in with flea anemia. Let me just say that I don't want to know the state of their home if the poor cat is so infested that when you scratch her nose a WALL of fleas moves across her face, eyes, eyeballs, up her nose, into her ears.  GAH.  It was horrible.  We gave her a "Capstar".  It's a pill that will kill the fleas, eggs and larvae on the pet within like 40 minutes and continue to do so for 24 hours.  When they start to die, they get really mobile. They jump off, they fall off, they crawl around on the pet.  It's icky.  We transfused the cat because her Hemoglobin was 5 and her PCV was 9.  Normals are like 18 and 40 respectively.  She did well.  I *ITCHED* all night.  I can handle many things at work but that many fleas will must make my skin crawl incessantly.

So when I got home, I stripped, put all my stuff in a garbage bag and sealed it up, then jumped in the shower to use flea and tick shampoo all over me.  It was THAT bad.  Most of that is psychosomatic for me, but it made me feel better. The stuff makes my hair feel like straw though so I'll have to condition it today heavily and it will all be good.

My problem with fixing an animal like that is not that it's expensive, time consuming or hard on the animal... It's all those things yes, but worth it if it works. My problem is... That cat is going to go home to a place that made it that way to begin with because the owner looked at the doctor like a stump when she told them they needed to treat the house and all the other animals before they took that cat back home. They needed to take her to her regular vet for the day while they treated the house and the other animals.  It's not brain surgery, but then again, they missed the WALL of fleas everytime you touched the cat.  *squick* 

Poor little thing. Very sweet cat too. I hope they do right by her at her home, or she'll just suffer the same fate she came to see us for.... or worse.

[Sylk]

The News

There are many things in my life that have been difficult, have backlash, left me bereft.  There are even more things in my life that have brought me joy, a sense of wonder and love.  My mom and I were never really all that close.  But when I was a little kid, during the height of the 'sexual revolution', people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I would always say that I wanted to be a mom.  A mom like mine.  They would look at me funny and say something to the effect of "that's all? just a mom?"  So after a while, fearing to disappoint my peers, I would say things like... 'oh a nurse' or 'a teacher'.  But in reality, all I wanted to be was a mom.  Mom raised us as little kids.  Dad spent his entire young adult life making a life for the rest of us while he worked himself into nervous heart palpitations and a few trips to the ER.  But Mom was also cruel in some things.  For reasons I'll never really know.

When we moved half the country away from home at 2 months before my 12th birthday to start over; things changed for us all.  Mom became a heavy drinker.  She still smoked and for a while it was up to 3 packs of cigarettes a day.  She couldn't get out of bed without her hangover coffee and 3-4 cigarettes most of the time.  More than once I cleaned up after her.  I never had friends over to the house.  Mom rarely showed for swim meets, but came to my plays and I'd worry, came to my band concerts and I'd worry.  I moved away when I went to college because I couldn't handle it.  I learned through her that I would never be pretty, smart or amount to anything.  Almost always when she was drunk and for years.

For her own reasons her drinking would get better or worse, she'd disappear and reappear at important occasions.  Dad would be furious but do nothing.  My brother Rick would be left to pick up the pieces.  I just couldn't do it. I couldn't deal with it.  My own self loathing was such that I married a man who began to beat me within 6 months of our wedding. Then later married a second man who cheated on me for 7 years...... It took me a long time to figure out that I could make choices that didn't hurt me or mean I was worthless.  I'm honestly still dealing with that every day.

12 years ago my mother had esophageal cancer.  That is a horrible type of cancer typically because it moves quickly, mets  out extremely fast and generally doesn't have a decent survival rate. Mom opted for high dose radiation rather than chemo because she didn't want to lose her hair.  1 year later, then 5 then 8 and then 10 she was pronounced cancer free.  In December of 2010, mom fell and cracked her hip on the ice.  the tests, scans and battery of other hospital crap over a period of about 8 weeks brought forth the diagnosis of lung cancer in her left lung.  Again, she opted for high dose radiation rather than chemo and it went well.  She handled this radiation better than the one years before and bounced back with renewed vigor.  Mom and Dad made plans to travel again.

Then at Thanksgiving of 2011, mom fell again and snapped her femur in two.  Surgery placed a pin and two screws to give her more stability than she'd had on that side in literally over a decade.  She went to a live-in rehab facility in Denver for 3-6 weeks.  3 weeks into it, she felt faint.  Her 02 sats were 75% and her heart rate had plummeted to 35.  They rushed her to the ER, she was admitted to the ICU ward at St Anthony's in Denver and was there two nights.  Once they figured out that due to her bilateral subclavial stenosis, her hands had little to no decent circulation, and placed the pulse oxometer on the right area, things got better.  She went back to the facility in 2 more days and was eventually released to go home within another 10.  She was again in good spirits and bitching at people in the way someone does when they'd had enough fawning over them.  Though the latest news was not good for the long run. Tests run during her stint in the ICU revealed liver cancer.  My mind said that the lung cancer had metted out faster than they thought and we would lose her before July of this coming summer.  I made plans to spend the week with my family and parents and brother in the early summer.

About a week after that, Mom fell in the house.  She didn't know how it happened, when it happened or anything about it. She was confused and upset.  The ambulance again arrived and she went to the hospital.  This time she had a compression fracture of a vertebra in her back.  Into a back brace and back to the center she went.

On Monday, Janurary 23, 2012 my brother called me at about 8am his time.  My first reaction was that something bad had happened to either mom again or to dad.  "I don't know how to say this, but I'm just going to.... Mom died last night."

Stunned, my mouth dropped open.  "WHAT?  THIS ISN"T FUNNY"

"I'm not kidding.  It happened sometime in the middle of the night. They don't know how exactly."

20 minutes of conversation and all I can say is... 'ok, ok, ok.'  To everything my brother tells me.  My guilt at not being there through dad's stroke, mom's illnesses and to help him came full force to hit me in the face.  The coroner wouldn't be releasing the body for a couple days due to the fact that she didn't die at home. They had to make sure it wasn't due to neglect or whatever at the facility.  That she wanted to be cremated gave me time thankfully to tell my employer, arrange my schedule, have the younger children looked after and book flights out to Denver.  I call my oldest cousin to tell him because my mom's brother is his father. And because he and I have a secret family plan. I couldn't call Unc myself.  I couldn't hold it together to do it.

I loved my mom.  I always will. Whatever differences we had, what ever cruel and mean things were said and done pale in the wake of losing someone who loved me in a way no other will on this earth.  The ground is so frozen where my folks live that we opted to not bury the ashes until this summer.  So we had a celebration of life or *wake* for her instead and I think 300 people came.  Some I knew. Most I didn't.  I hadn't been home to visit in a very long time over 30 years.  Maybe 3 times in all.  For me it was just too hard, too heartbreaking and sad.  I was never what mom wanted for a daughter, never enough for Dad to truly be proud of what I do.  But that doesn't detract from the love I felt and will miss every day.

At the Wake,  I looked at all the boards they put up with pictures of her through college, HS, my brother and I as kids, mom and dad's travels, their 50th wedding anniversary 2 years ago where I surprised them and brought the entire family out including 1 grand child they had not met yet.  Named after my dad.  I realized I had missed out on a lot.  My young kids had missed out even more in not getting to know them.  The guilt I feel will probably last forever because, well, I'm like that.  I have a big heart, I am hurt easily and I hold a grudge with the best of my Scot ancestors. (Sound familiar Mom?) 

Over the years I have made a point to tell my parents, my brother, friends and other relatives that I love them and mean it from the heart. I still do that every day.  My husband and I went out, I spent days going through Mom's things she left me.  Sorting, crying, marveling at all the stuff she collected over the years.  We came home on Sunday, Feb. 5th.  I went back to work. The kids came home, life resumed it's relatively normal pace.

I am more careful now. I do things for people I care about not because I feel obligated but because I don't know how long they will be in my life and I want to make it count.  I can't make up for the lost time with mom, but I will damn sure make use of the time I have now with those I have in my life.

I miss you Mom.  Every day.  I know that now you don't hurt, you don't hate yourself so much and you don't spend every waking hour worried or in pain.  I know you loved us all very much.  I hope that you know we loved you too.  Watch over Dad ok?  He doesn't know it, but he needs you still.  I hope someday, I can be the kind of mom that would make you proud.

[Sylk]

Memorial Day Wishes

Today is a day to remember. For me, it's not just those who have served, are serving or may serve in the future. It is a day of rememberance for all those who have left me behind in this life as well.

For those in the military: you wrote a blank check to our country payable with your life if need be. Some paid that price. Some in their way are still paying it. Some still have that check out there. You are not forgotten nor gone in my heart. I thank you for all that I have, all that I am able to do and for a country that I still believe in. I could not do what you do. Thank you.

For friends and family not in the service who are no longer with us in this life; Thank you for being part of mine. For the lessons you taught me and the love given. For the friendships and hardships which made me who I am now.

And lastly, but not least: For those of you in my life now: Thank you for being part of it. Thank you for your friendship, your love, your lessons, your hardship and even the hurt from time to time. Without all this, I wouldn't be me and I wouldn't have the amazing life I have now with the most wonderful blessings of family and friends both new and old, distant and close.

Thank you

[Sylk]

The last one

Today, my youngest went to his first day of preschool.  He'd been on a waiting list for a few months.  He was so excited he was going to 'real school' rather than "baby school".  That's the name we coined for daycare when I started working dispatch for a 911 center a few years ago.  I worked 12-16 hour days and nights and they flipped us from days to nights after 3 months or so.  Richard loved baby school. But he so wants to be big.  He's got an older step brother who is 19 and his older brother of almost 10 years loves going to school.  It's infectious, the excitement.  The youngest sees how proud I am of the middle child and wants to do the same.  He always wants to be like his big brothers.  I just want him to be happy.

So it's a melancholy day for me.  My paramour and I have had some rough times.  It's hard to love someone who denies he's capable of being loved on some strange subconscious level.  My husband and I have talked about it all extensively.  Our relationship is such that we get approval and veto rights, have to know who the other's 'other' is and meet them..... stuff like that.  He approved mine before I even realized I was considering it.  It was funny.  And today that person turns 46.  I'm 3 years older.

Dad turned 82 last month.  He'd been married to mom for 52 almost 53 years when she died this last January. When I look at my father, I still see the young photographer who hosted parties in the house with mom and us kids watching on the stairs as people spoke French and German in the house, played poker, drank cocktails and smoked.  I still see the smile and hear the coaxing voice behind the camera asking for a smile.  Then I look again and I think... Daddy, when did you get old?  It's hard.  His mom died at age 88 or so.  His dad didn't last into his late 50's because he had lung cancer and emphysema from pipe smoking.  I almost fear hearing from my brother because I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.   

Watching people you love grow old..... it's not something you really think about all the time.  Watching the world being new to someone going through it for the first time is helping.  My youngest is a trip.  The middle child (my oldest) is amazing as well.  My stepson needs a good boot in the ass and on a regular basis, but he didn't come to live with us until he was 12, so there was a lot (was?  try still is) of damage both physical and mental to overcome as a result of his mother and step father.  Just getting him to hold a conversation beyond gutteral noises took a year.  So at 19 he has no motivation, doesn't give a crap about anyone or anything. Plays video games when he's not at his job and still doesn't have a driver's license.  He is one who will just have to learn the hard way I think.  Because he doesn't care if we are disappointed or angry.  Nothing phases him.  He is the teflon kid.  No blame, no intensity, nothing sticks to him.

The baby has a mercurial temperament. Much like mine.  My oldest is more even keel like his father. For them both I am more grateful than I can say.  The amount of imagination and curiosity they possess is amazing and scary at the same time.  Watching them both see the world as all new and wonderful is what keeps me going on days like this.  Knowing that I get to be a part of that makes it all worth it.

I wish my dad were closer.  My brother too.  I miss them a lot. But Dad won't leave where he is now.  He's been there so long that he'd be lost without all his circle of friends.  And my brother's friends are all within a couple hours of where they live.  So it's not likely he'll be closer any time soon either.  I guess I could uproot us, move us out there.  But honestly, it's not the place I spent my formative years.  It's over grown, has an enormous drug population, people get shot just like in the inner city now.... I hate it. I hate visiting and seeing just how awful the peaceful little town I knew growing up has become.

I miss being younger.  I miss life being more simple.  I don't miss childhood really... mostly because I don't remember much of it.  I don't have a lot of memory earlier than say age 8 or so.  Lots of people have memories farther back... I just don't. I don't know why.  I'm not certain I want to find out why either.  If I don't remember, there is probably a reason.

None of this is in any order. Most of it has terrible syntax and grammar.  You know what?  you don't like it... bugger off.  It's my blog.  I get a say on what I put here.  Feelings don't have to be grammatically correct have good syntax or even make sense.  So if this is not the kind of post you're looking for.... just move along.   I just had to get it out somewhere.

Sylk

[Sylk]

You Love Me

The first time you told me you loved me, I don't know that I even heard it.  Not in my heart.  My ears heard it, my brain registered it and filed it away for another time.
Since then, you have said it more often. At least once when we speak to each other. I have told you already many times how dear you are to me.  The forest and the trees..... we have talked about that.   You have rough times going on right now that you never thought you'd have to deal with.  I am here.  My dear friend and love, I am here.

Unfortunately, I don't think what you feel for me is any deeper than what you might feel for a sister.  It makes me sad in a way.  I miss how you used to look at me, how I used to make you feel.  I truly do.  My heart spills over for you as I watch you struggle with finding some way to fill a void you have had most of your life.  I have done what I can to tell you and show you that I am here, no matter what.  You are my best friend.  You have been abandoned, betrayed and used most of your life by family and people who would call themselves your friend.  I will tell you and show you every day that I will do none of those things.  Not willingly. 

My only request is that you not throw me away too.  I couldn't bear that.  You might not 'have time' for certain mind sets, ways of thinking or feeling more deeply than you are willing to admit, but I ask that you have the time to consider that what I do for you has always been out of love.  I can operate in no other way.  I love my friends, my family and my heart is overflowing with feelings.  It is who I am love.  It is who I am.  I could no more not love you than I could stop breathing and still live.  You know this.  You feel this from me.  You refuse to accept it or acknowledge it.  For now.  In time, you might figure it out.  That I was worth having in your life.  I hope you do my friend.  For you have given me what many could not.... a friend, a love, a confidant, someone who needs someone just to be there how ever they can.

I love you R.  You might never know how much.  We might only ever be amazingly good friends when it is all said and done.  I'm ok with that.  I will mourn part of what was and celebrate that which continues to be.

Be well my dearest friend. I am thinking of you on this day when you are nervous and scared and refuse to tell anyone but me.  It will be alright.  Take the strength I send in the form of love and comfort.  Call me when you need to talk. I will be here.  I will always be here for you.  When the world falls apart or when it finally comes together for you, I will be here.  It is what I do............. It is who I am

S

[Sylk]

The loss of a father
Friday, November 16th, 2012

In the early morning hours on Wed, October 24th, 2012 I was recovering patients from surgery at work.  It was a little after 1am EST.  My phone rings.  It’s playing the theme from the Wild Wild West the series.  That means someone in my family is calling. Since it’s only my Dad or my brother, I swear silently to myself and answer because it’s Rick.

“hello”

“Hey, It’s Rick. I have some bad news…..”

shit…. oh god…….

“Ok”….

“Dad died about 2 hours ago.”

There are tears in his eyes, I can hear them in his voice.  My brother really doesn’t cry.  He’s not an emotional sort really. At least not that I have ever seen much.  This time I didn’t tell him it wasn’t funny.  The nagging feeling I had been experiencing since Summer was gone and I knew it was this which had hovered on the horizon.  Fuck I hate being right.  I thought is was my Aunt’s death that had been that other shoe.  Then Mark Metz died in a hunting accident. In fact that afternoon, I had been to Mark’s funeral.  Tears rolled silently down my face as I listened to Rick recount what he knew, what he didn’t know and what the hell were we going to do now?  Two orphans with no clue and our parents snatched from us in an instant it seemed.

Brittany comes in and sees me on the phone, tears streaming down my face and asks what happened.

“My Dad just died” I tell her.

“you need to go home. Right now. I’ll stay, don’t worry about it, just go home.  Let me know you got home safe and we’ll talk to Dr. Chevalier in the morning.”

Brittany is a good kid.  I don’t have the words to thank her properly for her compassion and will to help in a situation no one should have to go through.  She didn’t argue, she just pointed. I left for home.  On the way I called Matt.  We cried together over the phone.  I cried all the way home.

When I was 18 I left for college in Iowa.  I was drugged and raped my first week there. I lost half a year or better of my memory and still don’t remember the actual event well.  What I do remember is enough.  I’m not sure I want to remember more.  I quit school, went home in shame and lived there until sometime in August when I went back to face demons.  I never really returned home.  I had become the black sheep of the family.  I went for my 10 year HS reunion, the occasional family holiday but that’s all.  I didn’t see my parents for 10 years or more. Mom got esophageal cancer and Dad felt that as aggressive as those cancers can be, we’d best have a family vacation and NOW.  So he paid for the four of us to go to Spain for 14 days.  It was amazing.  Once again, I was the black sheep. My perforated and painted body was something Mother didn’t approve of.  While Dad might not have approved, at least he like the artwork I chose to display, if not the medium in which I did it.  Another strike against me.  I had already married and divorced my first husband who beat me.  I was on my second husband whom I didn’t love, but offered financial security for a time.  That ended not long after the trip to Spain.  I moved to West Virginia.  I had friends, a good job and my hobby. I met my current husband.   I was truly happy for the first time ever.  I had the first and only grandchild.  Mom and Dad came out for the birth of my first born.  It was traumatic and wonderful all at once.  Mom seemed to forgive me some.  We talked for the first time in over 15 years.  Dad and I got closer.  I still didn’t go home.  My home was here now, with the family I had helped create.  I was loved.

Mom got cancer again. Years of smoking finally reared up in her lungs.  Found after a fall which broke her hip and cracked her pelvis, she underwent radiation therapy once more.  Handling it much better than the same regemen for her throat 8 years prior.  But the radiation had left her bones brittle and she’d fallen again.  Surgery and more tests, a live in rehab center for athletes and convalescents, and mom recovered from the lung cancer.  But the tests had revealed cancer of her liver this time.  in 3 weeks or less Mom went from recovering to a back injury due to brittle bones.  Then one night, she broke her back, threw a clot and it was over.

Somewhere in the middle of this my father had a stroke.  For 10 days I didn’t even KNOW about it. No one called me.  NO ONE.  I was hurt, livid, angry, crushed.  In many ways I still am.  I wasn’t there for him and was refused the right to come out to help when I offered to quit my job, take a leave of absence or whatever was needed and do just that.  I was the daughter that no one wanted.

My parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary 2 years ago this last August.  I flew my entire family out, including a grand son neither of them had ever met as a surprise.  It was the only time I had seen my father cry.  Mom never really said anything.  I’m not even sure she was happy to see me.  The boys I know she wanted to see, but me…. I’ll never really know.  A year and a half later,on January 22, 2012, Mom died.  We flew out to her celebration of life.  Her urn was placed on the mantle. The ground was frozen so we couldn’t bury her.  We opted to do so in the summer when the ground was more forgiving.  6 months later, my boys, my husband, my brother, Dad and a few very close friends shoveled dirt over mom’s urn in a simple grave in a graveyard which houses bones as old as the gold rush and before.  In my head, I buried my mom twice.

That week we went with Dad to some silly things like burrow races in Fairplay, dinner with friends, sight seeing and just quality time with my Dad.  It was nice.  Matt and I decided we’d take the family out again very soon because the boys needed to know their Grand Pere and he needed to know them.

In September my Aunt died.  Rick and I went to her funeral and were reunited with mom’s brother and our cousins.  We, the kids, had formulated a secret plan to get a family which had drifted apart over 30 years back together.

October… and here we are.  Rick and I split phone calls to people we know from our old home town.  We hack into Dad’s email to send a blanket email about his death to people we didn’t have phone numbers for since Dad’s phone had gone missing the night he died.  Rick and I posted both our phone numbers on the email to contact.  Of the HUNDREDS of people on the lists…. one called me.  ONE.  And that was because he couldn’t get in touch with Rick fast enough.  I am still…. the daughter that wasn’t.  Rick, Matt and myself shoveled dirt over Dad’s urn in a grave right next to Mom’s.  It was a beautiful day.

The amount of guilt I carry now is staggering.  I wasn’t there for Mom’s Illnesses, nor Dad’s stoke and recovery.  Rick carried it all and became the local hero in the eyes of all the people my parents knew and loved at home.  I was simply some girl they claimed as a daughter that they never saw and didn’t really care to see.  It hurts.  More than I have words for, it hurts every damn day. I hurt for Rick who hasn’t had a life for 20 years, I hurt for the loss of my mom who never really wanted me around, and for my Dad who didn’t really accept me for who I am, but did try. I hurt for the loss of a grandfather my boys will never really know.  He was amazing.

I cry every day.  I try not to, but I do.  There is so much I wanted to say and do with Dad still. So much about him I wanted my boys to know.  So now I have to settle for stories and pictures and his photographic art to tell the story of a man who for as long as I can remember represented my whole world.

People who know me well try to understand and express their sympathy. But they don’t know, they can’t see. I died that day too in some ways.  I’m not good company,  I’m needy and insecure.  I both need to be alone and want to be with people so I don’t have to think.  I am a mess. I want to crawl under a rock and stay there.

Rick can finally have a life.  But I know he’s a little lost right now.  He’s spent so much time over the years looking after our parents that now…….. And I feel guilty over that.  I wish so much were different.

Spend time with people you love. Tell them you love them, show them at every opportunity.  Tomorrow might not come.



LH

[Athos]

I'm so sorry to hear about your father Sylk. I'm sending you all my best and thinking about you tonight. Lots of love!

Athos

[Sylk]

the heart breaks, the spirit dies, the tears fall
look what you have done to me..... look what I let you do.

[Sylk]

Of Heroes and Monsters

I've been a vet tech nor 18 years. Thirteen of them in emergency or critical care wards. Over the years I have learned many many things about people, animals and attitudes in life.  But no matter how much one learns in a field like this, one is never fully prepared for things when they happen to one of our pets. 

I have a parrot, a standard poodle who was retired from show and I adopted him, and 5 cats. One of the cats is the first truly smashed face Persian I've ever owned.  He's the sweetest cat ever.  He also can't sneak up on anything or anyone because he snorts all the time. His name is Phinius. He had a brother named Ferb who went to someone I worked with. Ferb and Phinius are orange. Last Saturday morning I noticed Phinius ( who we also call "snorttle cat" or "insta-cat") walking rather stiffly.  Then he spent way too much time in the litter box and had nothing to show for it.  I have been dreading this since I brought him home.  His breed predetermined him to have urinary blockage problems. This is a life threatening situation.  I texted the doctor I work with at night and asked her to meet me at the clinic to look at him and possibly place a urinary catheter.  We found no crystals in the urine but tons of bacteria and immediately placed him on pain meds and antibiotics.  I put an IV in him and hooked him up to fluids, we ran bloodwork  and it was scary.  His values were off the charts due to the infection so home he came on fluids and my boss gave me permission to borrow an IV pump for the weekend. 

Today is Thursday.  It's Valentine's Day.  Phinius has had the urinary catheter removed twice now in hopes that the antibiotics had helped enough.  But his angry urethral sphincter had other ideas.  Tonight we placed the third urinary catheter.  He wears a 'cone of shame' and will undergo surgery either Friday afternoon or Saturday afternoon to make him pee like a girl.  ( my apologies to the men reading this part.). The surgery is called a perineal urethrostomy. They generally work well to resolve problems like this.  I hate this. I feel like a terrible kitty mom.  The sweetest cat in the world has been in a cage for almost a full week, wearing an inverted lamp shade with a plastic urinary catheter sewn in.....  Pain meds, Valium and now two types of antibiotics not withstanding, he just wants to go home. If you're sitting here reading this and saying "it's just a cat", then don't bother to comment. I don't have time for ugliness right now.

Yesterday my husband was in a car accident.  He's fine and the car suffered minimal damage.

Earlier in the week the preschool my youngest attends affectively 'lost' my son and I had to go to the facility to find him. ( he wasn't on the bus to transport him to the elementary school where that facility also picks up after school program kids and brings them back. My son rides to the elementary school since they have to go there anyway and I pick up both kids in one place). This was the third time and I was livid.  That the people are not missing body parts as a result is testimony to the amount of restraint I exhibited that afternoon.  Fortunately my son didn't seem to know what snafu had gone on and was just as happy to see Mommy as any other time.

So those are the monsters

The heroes are my boys (who seem to think I'm the best Mommy on the planet for what ever reason I have yet to fathom....)as well as a few friends from Elliquiy who have dropped me a line here and there to check on me, offer encouragement and in general are just very kind individuals. Thank you gentlemen.  It means more than you know. Lastly, my husband who said "we'll do what we need to for Phinius, don't worry."  He doesn't really like most of the other cats.... But is very attached to this little fuzz ball.

If I come up short, seem distant when I talk to you, or am otherwise extremely distracted in our communication, please know it's probably not you. There have just been a lot of monsters in my life recently and not enough heroes......

Sylk

[Sylk]

Definitions

I found one of the best definition of Polyamoury ever the other day and I thought I'd share it with folks.  Being Poly is sometimes difficult to get across to people that it's not 'being easy' or a 'man whore' or a 'slut'.  It's rather philosophical in many ways.... like trying to define love in all its aspects. Since it's a little different for everyone.  So I thought I'd post the link here.  I hope I do this correctly. I'm sure someone will yell at me if I don't.

goodmenproject.com/featured-content/what-is-polyamory

The site has a lot of really interesting articles and information.  I highly recommend it.

Cheers,

Sylk

[Sylk]

Outside Looking In

The apurture opens
The shutter clicks
a moment is captured
the outside, looking in

words are shared
a smile is given
a memory created
on the outside, looking in

what do you see, you people gazing at me?
you are on the outside looking in

you don't want to know what I see, on the inside..... afraid to peer out.............

[Sylk]

A year ago January I lost my mom.  In many ways, I'd lost her long ago to alcohol and her own demons. She'd battled 2 different cancers, had brittle bones and just about 2 weeks after she'd been diagnosed with a third type of cancer, her spinal vertibrae shattered, threw a clot and she was gone.  I miss her.  I should probably miss her more than I do actually, but since I was about 12, we just couldn't manage to keep any kind of accord really.

Then, in August, my Aunt died in a freak car accident.  Her husband is my Mom's brother.  They have three boys, my first cousins. What I'd lost in an Aunt, I had gained in my cousins again.  We'd lost touch many years ago.  Both grandfather's died when I was 6. Both grandmothers when I was about 28.

This last October, my Dad died suddenly.  My world fell in on itself and has spiraled downward in waves ever since. I still have the last text conversation with him on my phone because I can't bear to delete it.  I called the house before my brother had the phone service disconnected just so I could hear his voice on the answering machine one more time.

At Christmas my 19 year old step son moved back in with his mother after living with us since the age of 12 when his step father hit him so hard he hit back finally and was kicked out.  His mother didn't write, call, visit or otherwise communicate with him for 18 months.  When she finally did, and he went to visit, he had to sleep on the floor because the woman had rented his room out the minute he was gone from the house and he had no where else to sleep.  Yeah, she's a piece of work.  I'd love to drop her down an abandoned mine shaft with about 25 pounds of lime on top.

Three weeks ago my 5 year old told my husband that he didn't want to die.

Right now I feel like I'm on the outside of everything.  I don't belong, hate my reflection, not liking my job or most of the people in it, and am having trouble even with my hobies.  I'm old, fat, tired, and generally just not doing all that great. A friend of mine told me recently that I'm the most compassionate person he's ever met.  That I'm entirely too hard on myself and should cut myself a break.  Only thing is, I just don't know how.  Affirmations are fine if they work for you.  They don't work for me.  So many years of hearing that I wasn't smart, pretty, what was wanted in a daughter or wanted at all make seeing oneself in a different light difficult at best.  "the bad stuff is easier to believe".

I swear if I hear one more person tell me "but you're such a good person" I'm going to cold cock them to the floor.  Because in the end, if one isn't appealing on the outside, very damn few will bother with looking for what's on the inside. and just once in my flipping life I would like to stop traffic not because I look like some joke, but because that many people saw on the outside what some find on the inside.  Yeah... maybe in another lifetime....

Sylk

[Sylk]

It's been 3 years. Can t be that long?  Reading over the stuff from the death of my parents it feels like yesterday.

My oldest goes to high school this fall. He made show choir, got a new helm for heavy fighting and is in honors classes. My youngest is learning the lessons of personal space, entertaining himself without electronics and respecting that which is not his.  I am a proud mom. 

Surgery for me in late August. The turn of a new leaf. And the start of a long and necessary road. It was a difficult decision to make but will be worth it.

So where have I been?  In training. Started a new job that had training classes of 12 weeks. Now I'm starting my third year and it's still strange and often difficult. Very much out of my comfort zone but I'm making due.

The boys have outgrown most everything. My oldest started this with the top of his head level to my eyes. He now has to bend down to hug me at 5ft 8 or 9 inches and a 12 shoe.   My husband is quite tall so I know my son will also be. It's just very disconcerting sometimes. Then I see someone with a new baby and wonder if mine were truly ever that small. Watching them grow up is bittersweet but also worth it.  Though as the country is today, I almost feel I've done them a disservice. 

I'm still going through stuff from my parents home. My father was a free lance photographer who's prize student now heads the photography department at university of Athens, Ohio. So I have lots of his pictures about the house. It makes me feel I'm less alone. That he's still looking after me somehow. As ridiculous  as that sounds.  Some days it's harder than others. Like fighting waves in a storm that ebbs and rages.

I'm still struggling up that hill but I can feel the road evening in places. I'll get there. Just have to keep moving.