Nancy Mitchell's blog

A quick update...

After the holidays, I intended to start regularly posting here again....but like most New Year's resolutions, my resolve went in the crapper.  Oops.

I really do enjoy writing things here, interacting with my Vox neighbors and reading about other people's lives.  (I mean, how many episodes of Invention and Hoarders does a person have to watch before you realize that most people's lives are much less dramatic?)

So....since I have a few minutes, I'm going to write a few random/updates/thoughts......hey,  its something.

1)   My DVR is at 98% availability!  For those of you who may recall my previous admittance of OCD tendencies, you'll know that I have this weird obsession with seeing the percentages on my DVR go down.   This is the lowest its ever been.    I realize this is of no consequence or significance to anyone else, but it makes me feel strangely satisfied.

2)  We've been catching up on our Netflix....and have seen some really good movies including Julie and Julia, Frozen River (HIGHLY recommend it), Doubt, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, etc.   I also went to the theater to see The Lovely Bones and Precious.  Precious was the most intense movie I've ever seen in my life.  I had to sit in the darkened, empty theatre at the end to compose myself.   People actually were wailing and left the movie theatre mid-way through.  It was very well done and Mo'Nique definitely deserves her awards, but I will never sit through that movie again.

3)   I've been doing a ton of cooking/baking lately.   After a hiatus during the holidays, I'm back in the swing of sauteeing, braising, stewing, dicing and kneading.    I love to create in the kitchen and I'm open to trying just about anything.   I've had a mental block about cheesecake, however.   I made one once and it didn't turn out well at all....since then, I've avoided even attempting to do another one.   (Yes, I am a perfectionist....if I can't do something right, I don't want to do it at all)   I made homemade bread (no bread machine, thank you very much), biscuits, candy, cakes, most kinds of cuisine....but cheesecakes are my wall.  Before Easter, I'm going to try it again.   Wish me luck.

4)   Christmas was a feast of great gifts.  Its terrible to admit, but I really loved the gifts I recieved.  My friends and family who know me well know that buying me anything kitchen-related delights me.   This year, gifts ranged from a 10-inch Wusthof Grand Prix Chef's Knife, a collection of gourmet salts, truffle salt, prep bowls, mixing bowls, a hardcover book about gourmet cheese, a subscription to Food & Wine Magazine, gift certificates to Williams Sonoma, Crate and Barrel, Bed Bath & Beyond, a french rolling pin, a bamboo salt cellar, truffle oil (I'm going through a truffle phase right now), Martha Stewart's latest cookbook, biscuit cutters, a pastry cutter, a food scale (for converting all those European recipes).   And that's just a partial list.   I know...its criminal.   But hey, I'm an easy person to buy for. 

  There was a news report recently that said men should never buy their significant others the following gifts:   A vacuum, clothes, kitchen appliances, cookware or lingerie.   I completely disagree with 3 of them.   Guess which ones?   Buying clothes or lingerie is just plain creepy.  The other three are my dream gifts.   (next to jewelry, of course)

5)  Speaking of jewelry...Dan gave me a beautiful Tiffany Key necklace for Valentine's Day.    I squealed and wore it around the house in my nightshirt and robe for the rest of the day. 

6)   We're getting ready to go on our two week vacation in March to celebrate our anniversary.  The first week is in Cozumel where we got married and we'll be joined by my sister JoAnne and her husband Richard.  The second week is just the two of us in Isla Mujeres where we honeymooned.  During the second week, we'll be volunteering with a local organization called Isla Animals.  A non-profit rescue/adoption/medical organization that was started by an American couple who moved to the island.  I've been in contact with one of the founders and we can't wait to spend some time during our trip helping out.   We volunteered with a local vet on our honeymoon and  came VERRRRY close to bringing a 3-legged dog home.    This time we plan to bring a bunch of donated medical supplies to help with some upcoming spay/neuter clinics they have coming up.  We're planning on hitting up all three of our vets for donations or the opportunity to buy supplies at cost.  We thought it was a nice way to help memorialize my sweet Jake, who was himself a rescue cat.   

We're not sure what we'll be doing during our volunteer days, but we offered to clean cages, run errands, socialize puppies, walk dogs...whatever they need.  I really can't wait to see the animals and meet the people who run the organization.  

If you're interested in seeing what they do, log onto www.islaanimals.org.   We intend to take a lot of pictures and video.  

Well, dear Vox neighbors and friends....that's a brief update on what's been going on here.   I hope you're all doing well and hope to catch up with all of you soon.

Now I'm off to make Wild Mushroom Risotto and enjoy an evening watching Inglourious Basterds. 

More later.... 

Christmas by the numbers...

I admit it.  I'm a chronic, compulsive list maker.   To outsiders it may seem to have shades of OCD, but to me its how I keep such an organized life.   Trust me...I'm REALLY organized.   I've never done well in chaos, clutter or mess.   Yet, I still watch "Hoarders" every week - although I do scream, cringe, hide under the covers and smack Dan while watching it.  (sometime I'll write about the two things I am frequently accused of hoarding....meat and bath products....long story.)

I really feel for the people they feature on the show, yet I find I get really impatient when they won't just throw stuff away.   (I know...they can't help it, but I literally start to sweat when I watch them agonize over throwing a piece of paper away).  Every time I watch it, I cry.   Dan threatens to forbid me from watching it.   When I watch it, I mentally go through the steps that I would go through to clean the person's house.   I actually have a system that I would use....throw all of the obvious trash away, gather the clothes to be kept and send a team to a laundromat to wash them.   Send another team to wash the clothes to be donated, etc., etc., etc.  No wonder I'm exhausted when the hour is up.

That being said, I tend to go overboard in my organization.  For example, whenever I host a party or a holiday at my house, I keep very detailed notes and a schedule.   Then when the event is over, I type all of my notes and keep them in a file.  I know...it sounds obsessive, but I'm constantly referring to those notes the next time I have a party.  Its helped me tremendously to improve on things.

SO...for the last few years, I also keep very detailed notes on Christmas.  For example, I have lists of every gift purchased and how much the gifts were.  I have them organized by my family, Dan's family and friends.   I keep a list of all of the baking/candy making I do.  OK...that last part sounds stupid, but I bake for all of Dan's freelance clients and I make candy and baked items for family and friends...so its hard to remember from year to year, how many things I made, how many pounds, packages or cartons of ingredients I used.   So it is a huge help to have something to refer to.

I just finished the last of my Christmas duties such as putting away presents, writing and sending thank you notes, updating my gift lists and yes today, I finished my baking/candy making lists.

Here it is...the 2009 totals:

People we purchased gifts for - 34

People we gave homemade gifts to - 31

Dan's clients who recieved a gift - 16

Caramel Truffles  - 120

Dipped Pretzels - 173

Sponge Candy - 5 Batches - 5 pounds

Raisin Filled Cookies - 132

Dark Chocolate Cornflake Clusters - 206

Pecan Meltaways - 219

Brown Sugar Bars - 148

Dark Chocolate Butter Toffee - 5 Batches - 12.5 pounds

Coconut Macaroons - 118

White Chocolate Cranberry Oatmeal Cookies - 210

Nut Goodies Bars - 180

Peanut Brittle - 5 Batches - 10 lbs

Brown Sugar Caramels - 2 Batches - 128

Fleur de Sel Caramel Bars - 2 Batches - 64 

Bacon Olive Oil Truffles (for dogs) - 234

 

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I've been meaning to write about Christmas and post some pictures, but I'm tired after all of my list making.   More later.

"Our lives are defined by opportunities....even the ones we miss."

That is a line from "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button", which I just watched the other day.   Ever since watching it, I've been doing a lot of  thinking about the message of the movie.  (I won't explain the plot if you haven't seen it, but I highly recommend watching it.  Even if you're not a Brad Pitt fan.)

For as long as I can remember, I've tried to live my life with no regrets.  Or more realistically, with as few regrets as possible.   Perhaps having older parents had something to do with my sense of urgency regarding my life and my relationships.   In the back of my mind, I think I knew that I would have less time with my parents than my oldest siblings would.  I never forgot a birthday, a Mother's or Father's Day, or a Christmas because I knew that I wouldn't have those opportunities forever.

I've always felt its critical to say the things you need to say to the people in your life who you love and love you in return.  I also believe that relationships rarely end because of what IS said, but rather by the things that are NOT said.

Given my views, I've always tried to be as open as I can be when I love someone or care about them.  I've tried to seize opportunities when they arise and make opportunities when I can.   For example, after Dan and I got married, I was filled with such love and gratitude for all of the people who came to Mexico to share our special day with us.   As soon as I returned home, I sat down and wrote a personalized letter to each of our guests letting them know how important they are to me and why.

It took me weeks to write the letters because I wanted each one to say exactly what I was feeling.  Some of the letters were harder to write because I didn't know Dan's family very well, but I still wanted to make the letters sincere and heartfelt.

The response I recieved from my family and friends regarding the letters was really secondary to how I felt simply by writing and sending them.  I knew that I would never be able to truly express how I was feeling on my wedding day.  The feeling of being surrounded by family and friends was so amazing, I almost couldn't express the words.  But it was important to me to find the words and to say them.

This approach was extremely helpful when my dad died.  It was an incredible comfort to me knowing that I had said everything to my dad that I ever wanted to.   Five days before he died, I told him that he was the best man I've ever known.  I didn't know he was dying at the time, but it was how I had always communicated with my parents and it felt natural to say it at the time.   When my dad did die, I found great comfort in knowing that my dad knew how I felt about him.   I was fortunate to have always had a great relationship with my dad and he was a joy to be around.   I loved going to visit or having my parents visit me.  They loved Dan, my new house, my friends and me.   Because of that, it made saying and doing kind things for my parents, easy for me.   

I feel bad for people who have a harder time expressing their feelings of love toward the people in their lives.  Its got to be very stifling and often times, scary when you have an important relationship in your life, but can't seem to find a way to say the good things that you feel.   I admit that there are people in my life who are less 'receptive" to kind words, but I still try in my own way to express myself.  I try to not let their approach to relationships censor me.   Sometimes I fail.  But I'll always try.

Where I fail most every time is expressing myself when I'm upset with someone.  (Dan may disagree with me here)   For most of my life, I've rarely spoken up when I've been hurt or disrespected.   I think I stayed silent in an effort to keep peace, not start a "situation" or to be a "nice" person.   When I've been upset at work, I've found it easier to stew in silence.   When someone treats me poorly, I tend to go to a corner to lick my wounds.  

However, when the feelings of my loved ones are hurt, I have no problem speaking up.   I tend to think I need to come to everyone's defense.  Loyalty is a critical character trait for me.  I demand it of myself and I certainly expect it from the people that I am close to.   Sadly, its not a trait that a lot of people possess anymore.   I think a lot of us have become jaded, cynical or just afraid to stick our necks out for someone else's benefit.  Its a shame really because to me, family and friends mean loyalty.   Its easy to "play" family or be "pals" with someone....its much harder to have principles, stick to them and fight for them when they are threatened.

Lately however, when my feelings get hurt, I find myself getting angry.  Its as though all of those years of staying quiet are catching up with me.  I can't seem to reconcile myself to the fact that someone who is supposed to care about me or love me would deliberately be hurtful, thinking "Oh, its OK...its just Nancy.  She'll get over it.  She always does".  

Maybe I will and maybe I won't.   But again..."our lives are defined by opportunities....even the ones we miss".   If you have the opportunity to say or do something, why wouldn't you?  In my opinion that doesn't mean doing what I've always done, which is to say nothing when someone hurts me.  It means loving yourself enough to defend yourself as strongly as you would defend someone else.  

If you have parents you never call, an elderly grandparent in a nursing home, children you never talk to or a spouse you take for granted, what is stopping you from doing the right thing by them?   If you have a friend with whom you've become estranged or a neighbor who bugs you, a co-worker who talks too much, how hard would it be to stand in their shoes for a minute?

For all of us, life tends to get in the way.  Its the excuse we use when we don't live up to the person we know we're supposed to be.  "I'm busy, the kids are sick, work has been stressful lately, this is how I've always been, I'm always the one who calls, they always ask too many questions"....whatever the reason is.... we can all come up with lots of reasons for not living the life we're supposed to.   But at the end of the day, the reasons don't really matter.  It doesn't matter how much money you make, what kind of a house you live in, what your job title is....if you're not a kind person to those around you, it really doesn't matter what things you possess. 

As much as we all think and wish we have forever, we don't.  Unfortunately, people tend to understand that only when they have lost someone and its too late to go back in time and right the wrongs of the past.

As Benjamin Button said: 

"For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again."  

"That's the gayest thing I've ever done"...

We re-join our story in the Spa of the Ocean Spa Hotel, Cancun Mexico.

As part of our deal with our hotel stay, both Donna and I recieved a 55 minute massage and a $30 spa credit good for various services.

After some deliberation, we decide to go with the Swedish massage and an Aromatherapy Body Exfoliation.   We make our appointments for 10am the day before we leave.

When we arrive at the spa, they bring us into the Women's Locker Room and ask us to change and take a warm shower before we head into the steam room.   We oblige in our private showers.

After a refreshing steam, our two massage therapists bring us into a room.  It happens to be the Couples Massage room....which is fine.   In fact, its a beautiful room complete with mood lighting and a beautiful jacuzzi bathtub for two.   The tub had lit candles around the side and some floating flower petals.   We looked at each other and laughed...thinking, "You're my best friend and all, but there is no way, I'm taking a nude jacuzzi with you at the end of this".

The massages begin and they are fabulous.  My masseuse doesn't speak to me (which I love) nor does she understand much of what I'm saying to her.  Donna's person is much more fluent than mine.

My person only speaks to me when she commands me to do something, but what's a little disconcerting is that she bends down and whispers-this-close right in my ear.  Its a little creepy feeling...plus it tickles. She had a voice like a very sweet child, so I start to get the giggles in my head.  I don't want to start laughing and ruin Donna's massage, nor do I want my poor massuese to think I'm laughing at her.  Its just one of those weird moments when you know you shouldn't laugh...so all you want to do is start chortling and guffawing all over the place.

The massages end and they begin the exfoliation.  After rubbing, scrubbing and buffing our front sides, I'm told to "sit up".  I sit up and look to my right and Donna is already sitting up....trying as desperately as I am to keep my sheet in its proper place.   We get our backsides exfoliated and then are told to lie back down.  From Donna's side, I hear a little laugh.  First from Donna and then from her person.   I wonder what they're talking about and worry that since someone broke the "seal" on the public laughing, I'm going to start to laugh about the whispering in my ear.

I'm told to lie still for a few minutes and then to get up and take a shower.   The massage therapists leave and I peek out from under my eye cover and see Donna looking at me.   We decide its time to get up, shower and get dressed.

Donna opens the door to the shower and its.....a shower built for two.   One stall.  Two shower heads facing each other.    We start to laugh at how we've suddenly entered into a soft core porn flick.   After some debate and many promises to "don't look", we figure what the hell?   We're not THAT modest with each other.   Donna heads in first and I follow behind (with my eyes closed).  All I could think about was some 1980's women's prison movie and with that we start to laugh.  We're trying to wash the grit off of ourselves while not looking at the other one and the whole time we're hysterically laughing.  I can't catch my breath because of the absurdity of it all.  The harder Donna laughs, the more I laugh.   Finally, from the steam Donna yells "THIS IS THE GAYEST THING I'VE EVER DONE!!  Oh, and did she ask you to do the "boobie" thing?"  Apparently, Donna's therapist bent down, whispered in her ear "here...this is for your boobies" and she hands her a handful of exfoliator.   I ask her what she did. 

In all seriousness, she responds "I did my boobies". 

That's it.  I'm done.  I can't shower anymore.   I can barely stand up because I can't catch my breath.   I run out of the shower cacking like a hen and wonder to myself what in the hell do the other spa customers think is going on in here?

Terror in the Aisles...

Before I begin this post, I wanted to say hi to all of my Vox neighbors (those that are left, anyway).  Sorry I haven't been around much since Jake died....but its been kind of a hard few months and I just haven't felt much like talking about stuff.

That being said, I had an experience recently that I wanted to share (and remember)...

Anyone who knows me well, knows that in the last 10 years or so, I've developed a little fear of flying.   I still do it, but I really don't love it.  I refuse to drink or take medication to calm my fears, so I grit my teeth and go.   The part I really can't stand is take-off.  That feeling of slowly climbing into the air completely freaks me out.  Once we're up and the flight attendants start serving, I'm pretty much OK - assuming there isn't a ton of turbulence.

I should point out that I never had an issue with flying until a few years ago.  Nothing specific happened to stress me out...perhaps just getting older or perhaps its because I tended to hyper-focus on news reports of aviation disasters.  (much like I watch shows about serial killers even though I'm terrified of them).   In the last few years, I've read a few books about flying and I change the channel when there is ANYTHING to do with plane crashes. 

I consider myself to be a very rational black-and-white person, which is why I'm baffled by how irrational my fear is.  People think they're being helpful by saying "you have a greater chance of winning the lottery than being in a plane crash".  But I think to myself...I COULD win the lottery....assuming I ever bought a ticket.   So in the past few years, I've read books, logged onto the FAA website to read the statistics and have regular conversations with myself about how safe flying truly is.

Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't.  The fear usually creeps in about a week before I have to fly.  I maniacally clean my house in case I don't come home.  I hope that my family will give a flattering picture of me to the folks at Dateline who are SURE to do a story on the accident.  I can't stand when people tell me to "have a safe flight" because I assume they've suddenly gone psychic on me and they know something that I don't.   I ask Dan if he "has any feelings about the flight"....again, I assume everyone I know is a member of the Psychic Friends Network.  I make Dan look up statistics about how many takeoffs and landings there are each year from the Minneapolis airport.  (450,000 in case you're curious).

When I get to the airport, I look around to see if its looks like its anyone's "time".  I swear to you.  Its horrible.  If there is ever a famous person on my flight, I'm about ready to turn around and go home.   I stare at the departures and arrivals screens to see how many flights there are, what airlines I've never heard of and how many faraway destinations there are.  These things are supposed to make me feel better, but they tend to freak me out all the more.

That being said, Dan and I usually fly first class because it does seem to help me out a little.  That or I'm just saying that so Dan will pony up for the good seats.   I tend to feel worse if its a really crowded flight.   I also feel much better if the pilot and the flight attendants are older.  If the pilot is under 40, I assume he's an idiot.   Why?  I couldn't tell you.

SO...last week I had the opportunity to take a quick trip to Cancun with my best friend Donna.  Donna and I have taken a ton of vacations together and she's a great travel partner.  Mainly because she distracts me during takeoff by telling stories about her mother that make me laugh.  She also knows that while I look calm on the outside, on the inside I look like a Edward Munch painting.

For some reason, my usual pre-flight thoughts weren't scary ones.  In fact, I did really well the night before and didn't even think much about the flight.  Same thing when we got to the airport.  We get on the plane and I offer to take the middle seat and give Donna the aisle.  (keep in mind that she's been taking the middle for me for about 15 years).  I can't figure out why I'm feeling so calm, but I'm pleased.

The day of our flight was the day when the entire U.S. was hit with storms, blizzards and record cold and yet...I'm still not afraid.

The plane takes off and I'm just fine.  A little fluttering in the stomach, but nothing I can't handle.  The flight is going great.  No turbulence, a gray-haired pilot AND an older flight attendant.  What more could I ask for?

When food service begins, Donna and I decide to look at the menu and have a little snack.  I offer a menu to the woman on the other side of me and she just stares blankly.  She's an older woman, about 70 or so.  The flight attendant asks her if she wants peanuts, pretzels or cookies and she just stares back at her.  I ask her the question again and in a very thick Polish accent, she says "no English".   (I know its Polish because Donna's best friend from home is Polish)  I tell the flight attendant to give her all 3 options.  I try to see if she wants something to drink by giving the universal sign for "drink".  She says "Sprite".

I decide to have a cocktail since I see Pomegranate Martinis on the menu.   The flight attendant shakes my drink and Donna pulls out her travel Yahtzee game (sound dorky...but a great time-waster on a plane). 

Just as we begin to play, the plane starts to shake a little.  And then a little more.  I'm doing OK.   The pilot comes on and says to buckle up because they are expecting a little rough weather.  I'm still OK.  In fact, I'm doing better because I LOVE when the pilot tells me what's going on.  (can you say "control freak"?)

All of a sudden from the left side of the plane comes a big BOOM.  Donna says "I think that was thunder".   I turn around to the guy behind me and say "was that thunder?" when all of a sudden it felt like we were rear-ended by a semi.  The plane pitches forward, shakes from side to side and drops to the point where I'm straining against my selt belt.  

As all of this happens, I see my Pomegranate Martini levitate off my tray and catch it in mid-air without a drop spilled.  I mean, if I'm going to pay $7.00 for a Rande Gerber cocktail, I'm not letting it spill all over some elderly Polish lady. 

People start SCREAMING...and I mean, horror movie screaming and things are flying all over.  It seems to last for 5 minutes when all of a sudden everything is still.   Throughout all of this, I'm calm.  I didn't utter a peep, a yelp, a howl, nothing.  I look down and I see my martini in my left hand and my red Yahtzee pencil in my right.  The entire Yahtzee game was gone.  Not in my lap, not in Donna's, not in the aisle...just gone. 

I look to my right and the little Polish lady is fiddling with her scarf and just absolutely terrified.  I rub her arm and say "its OK, its OK".  She smiles.  I turn to Donna to start to laugh about the insanity of it all and there she is...my big brave travel partner with tears just streaming down her face.   I put my arm around her and say "we're OK.  we're OK".  She starts to cry and says "my whole life just flashed in front of my eyes.  OK...not my whole life, just the part where I think I'm a mean person".   I start to laugh and laugh hard.  Then she stops crying and yells "that fucking pilot better tell us what just happened".   I can't help it...I start to laugh even harder.  She tells me to look at the aisle and when I do, there are cameras, books, empty cups, ice, magazines strewn everywhere.  There is tomato juice, coffee and diet coke dripping down from where it hit the ceiling.  And still no Yahtzee game.   Donna is covered in some beverage and I kind of feel guilty that I made such a great catch of my own beverage.

The flight attendants come by with napkins to help with the clean up when the pilot comes on and in the most chipper voices say "sorry for the bumps there.  We were trying to divert around the bad weather over Jackson, Mississippi".  Now everyone on the plane is laughing....that kind of embarrassed, nervous laughter.   I can't stop laughing, but I really want to know where the Yahtzee game went.  We find it in the aisle under some seats....that is all but one dice.

I turn around to ask the guy behind me if they've seen any dice.  He starts to laugh and says "yeah, its in my son's pocket".  Apparently, the dice went flying over the seat into the kid's lap and he pocketed it.  The kid hands it back and we're all still laughing.

When the flight attendant stops at our seats, I ask her "so...do pilots feel what we feel back here?"  (yes, I'm that goon who feels the need to ask those kind of questions).  Irritated, she yells "NO and really irritates me.  They have no idea".   Then she tells me that in Row 18 where we were was nothing compared with Row 28 who REALLY felt it.

What struck me is how not scared she was...just annoyed because once we arrive in Cancun she only has 90 minutes to get the plane ready for the return flight.

Throughout all of this, I couldn't believe that I was so calm.  As I've said many times before, I am great in a crisis.  The house could be on fire, my arm could be hanging from its socket and I'd be calm as a cucumber....but God forbid the grocery store only has curly parsley instead of flat-leaf because NOW I'm going to burn the house down.  Weird how things work out that way. 

Donna kept saying "You're so brave, I'm so proud of you. Unlike me on the other hand, who looked like the petrified cat in this week's episode of "Hoarders"  I lost it again.  She has a way of making references that she just knows I'm going to get.   Its great to have a best friend like that.  Then she said something that I think will help me with future flights.  She said that whenever I get scared on another flight, to remember what happened on THIS one and compare the two.   I think its great advice.

When we arrived in Cancun, all of the goons on the plane started to applaud.  I jumped out of my seat and was waiting to exit the plane when I hear this little voice saying "help me...help me".  I look over at my Polish seatmate and her seat belt is completely twisted around her and she can't get out.   I reach over, unbuckle her and give her a goodbye arm rub.  She smiles gratefully and we leave.

I can't say this cured my fear of flying because on the way home, I had the usual take-off flutters.  But I have to admit, that I am proud of how I handled a potentially bad situation.   If this would have happened some other day, the flight attendants would have had to hog-tie me to the seat and there would have been federal marshalls meeting me at the gate.

Stay tuned for the next installment of "Nancy and Donna Go To Cancun"....entitled "That's The Gayest Thing I've Ever Done".

 

 

Goodnight Sweet Prince...

That's something I said to Jake every night before we went to sleep.   I also now say it to Ziggy.  Its also engraved on Jake's urn.

I think all of my Vox neighbors and friends know that we lost Jake last week after a valiant struggle on his part.  In the end, his poor little body just couldn't fight anymore.    But oh, how he fought.   Dan used to call him "The Little General" because although Jake was small in stature, he was enormous in attitude and personality.   He was true to that up until the end.

After weeks of dealing with kidney issues, gastrointestinal issues, severe anemia and just general lethargy and weakness, it appeared that he was going to get better.  On Thursday, his vet called with test results that she said were "good news".  We were told to keep on the same path and bring him in this Wednesday for additional blood tests.

By Thursday night, he had slowed down his eating, but had an OK night...he was still going up and down the stairs and going to his litter box regularly.  By Friday morning, he was considerably weaker.  For most of the time, he would ask to be lifted up to our master bath counter where he would lay for hours.  Eventually he would jump down, go potty and grab a snack.  Then he would sleep on the bathroom rug or find one of us to lift him back up on the counter.

On Friday, it was different.  I picked him up and he just snuggled.  He curled himself into my chest and neck and just lay there.  Suddenly, he started to sniff the air toward the open window and he made a feeble attempt to crawl up the towel bar to get to the windowsill.  I lifted him up and he just stared into the sky for what seemed like an hour.   I remember thinking "what a beautiful picture this would make"...the sky was pure blue with only a few wispy clouds in the sky.  And there was The Little General...small, but regal.  Surveying the scene.  It was a touching sight to see.

The rest of the day he slowly stopped eating anything more than a mouthful.  I was frantic to try to find something for him to eat...cottage cheese, cream cheese, chicken broth, ground beef, milk, chicken, turkey even warmed up baby food.  He would eat a bite and then lay back down.

When I spoke to the vet, she said that one of his medication's side effects was a stomachache and loss of appetite.  She suggested that we give him 1/4 tablet of Pepcid AC, bring him in in the morning and keep offering him food.

On Friday early evening, he couldn't walk up or down the stairs anymore.  He used to sprint those stairs and while he did slow down considerably, he always chose to walk them at his own pace without any help from us.   Eventually, he would stand at the stairs and look at me.  The look that meant, "help me".   I had a feeling on Friday morning that today was going to be the last day of Jake's life.  I couldn't shake it, even after the vet called with good news.  Because of that, I started to panic on Friday night.  Dan was gone at his daughter's party and I didn't know what to do.  I couldn't and wouldn't call him to come home, so I found a pillow and laid on the bathroom floor next to Jake.

We talked for a long time about our journey together.  I told him that I would be fine and that he didn't have to hang on anymore for me.  I told him that I loved him more than I thought possible.  I talked to him about Grandpa and Grandpa's boyhood dog, Bubbles.  I promised him that he would see them all.  I thought about my friends like Matt, Een and Navelgazer who have lost their beloved pets recently and I hoped he'd meet all of them.    I told him that I was sorry for not knowing what to do and I begged him to go on his own because I was not brave or strong enough to make that final decision.

He was still getting up and going to his litter box until about 2am.  That is when I was petting him and felt wetness near his back legs and realized it was pee.   Although I couldn't say anything, that's when I knew.  It was time.

Dan wrapped him in my robe and brought him to the emergency vet where we lost him at about 3:30am.  I can't write about that, but many of you have read Dan's blog.  If not, here is the link. Dan wrote about it beautifully and much more coherently than I can right now.

The days since we lost Jake have been harder than I imagined.   I keep thinking I hear him in the bathroom or see him around the corner.  I keep thinking its time to feed him or I check before I close a door to make sure he doesn't get accidentally locked in.  I can't manage to pick up his toys, his food and water bowls or the 6 litter boxes that we have scattered throughout the house. 

I miss him in a way that stays with me all day and into the night.  Its there when I wake up and there when I go to bed.  I suppose when someone has been your constant companion for 14 years, your surrogate child and your best friend at times, its hard to cope with.

The pain is so strong that sometimes I can't believe its just about losing Jake.   I'm sure part of it is additional grieving for my dad.  To lose both of these wonderful, loving, kind family members in 14 months may just be too much.   Perhaps its some misguided maternal transference.  I consider both Jake and Ziggy my babies - probably because I don't have human ones.  Writing that down seems somehow pathetic, but I'm sure its true. 

When you have a pet, you love them and care for them like a baby.  It is a complete unconditional and non-judgmental love.   Pets never let you down.  They never forget your birthday or snap at you after a hard day, they just want to make you feel better when you're sad and play with you when you're happy.  They don't send nasty emails, they don't backstab, they don't steal or lie or make promises they can't keep.  They want you to feed them, love them and keep them safe and in return they will give you their heart.   How nice would the world be if humans treated each other in the same way?   We could take away all of the drama and nastiness that comes from human relationships.

Speaking of human relationships...I cannot express how grateful I am for all of the kind words, comments and emails from my wonderful Vox neighbors.  I haven't been able to talk to anyone in my day-to-day life about Jake and what happened, but its been such a relief to be able to exrpess myself here and also to get such wonderful support and kindness back.  It makes me ashamed that I'm not a better Vox neighbor.

Family and friends have also been extremely supportive.  I've had some really wonderful conversations with my mom lately about death and loss and she has been so helpful.  I guess no matter what our age, when things are really bad, we just want our mommies.   My family all loved Jake and have been so kind from sending cards, emails and gathering pictures of Jake for me.   They've all shed their private tears for me, Dan, Jake and themselves too, I imagine.  Dan's brother Dennis and his wife Crystala sent us a card that meant so much.  They lost their beloved Winslow just a few short weeks ago.   The emergency vet sent a beautiful card with a poem that made me bawl - but in a good way.  People I used to work with nearly 3 years ago heard about Jake and have reached out as well. 

I've been trying to think of a way to memorialize Jake...something that will not only make me feel better, but also be meaningful.  We brought Jake home and have his urn close to us.   I am also going to donate all of his supplies, food, medications, toys, beds, etc. to a local rescue called Homeward Bound.  They are an incredible organization and a non-profit.   I figured they could use all of Jake's things to help another cat.  (Jake was a rescue cat too).  But I'd like to do something else.  If anyone has any ideas, please share them with me.

Writing about Jake makes me feel a little better, so over the next few weeks, I may write more.  I hope its not too depressing to read.

Thanks again to all of my kind Vox neighbors. 

Good-night, sweet prince;
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.  - William Shakespeare - "Hamlet"

 

Jake

Friends~

We lost Jake about 3:30am on Saturday morning.  I thought I should let you know.  Nancy will write about it - I'm writing about it.  We spent the weekend crying, missing, and reminiscing.  Nancy will be here soon to tell you more about it...

~Dan 

Update on Jake...

Its been a long, rough week with Jake.  After appearing to do a little better, he slipped again.  He started to lose weight again, the diarrhea came back and the stumbling was much more frequent.

After another trip to the vet, we learned that he is extremely weak and pale (the gums) due to severe anemia.  A normal cat's red blood cell percentage is supposed to be between around 25%-45%.  Jake's was 15% - down from 38% 10 days earlier.

After a more detailed blood test, it showed that he is no longer making any red blood cells but there is no clear reason why.  It could be one of many things including:

1)   His original diagnosis of kidney failure - apparently it can cause some reason for the body to stop making new cells.  Most likely due to a parasite of some kind.

2)   Some issue with his immune system.

3)   Internal bleeding.

4)  Cancer of the bone marrow or his bone marrow function is simply shutting down.

Because there is no blood in his urine or his poop, they feel confident that they can rule out #3 pretty easily.   To get a definitive diagnosis Jake will have to go through possible endoscopy or exploratory surgery.  Before we try that, the vet feels that #1 and #2 can be remedied with medication.

So...in addition to his daily Subcutaneous Fluid Treatments, the prednizone, the metronidiazole, the renal and fatty acid supplements, he is also on an antibiotic that can help with a possible parasite and an immune system booster.

Twice a day he gets both pill and liquid medicine, which competely pisses him off.  Once a day he gets his IV fluids, which he doesn't love, but seems to be dealing with.

He goes back to the vet on Wednesday for more blood tests to see if these drugs have improved his red blood cell numbers.  If they haven't, then we have some hard decisions to make.  Apparently when those numbers go into the single digits, it becomes life-threatening.

He doesn't appear to be in any pain, he's still eating and drinking quite voraciously and he still goes up and down the stairs.

We now have 6 litter boxes on 2 floors of our house.  We used a baby gate to block his access to the lower level.  He doesn't have accidents during the day because one of us is CONSTANTLY watching him....but at night, he pees on whatever we put down for his bed.  But he also uses the litter box at night too.   I think when he finally allows himself to sleep, he gets so tired that he just can't make it to the box.

The fluids make him pee more, which is why we added so many additional litter boxes.   His last big accident occurred on the aluminum foil on our stair landings and in the corners of every carpeted room that Jake has access too.   So much for cats being afraid of foil...he peed right on it and then stepped in it and tracked it through the room.

Its frustrating, but I feel so bad for him.   He knows he's weak.  He doesn't meow, purr, play or jump....but then he will have a burst of energy and run down the stairs.  Its hard to know what he wants.   He tends to want to stay in our master bathroom most of the time.  I've laid a towel on the counter and that's where he wants to stay.  We lift him up and give him access to fresh water and that's where he sleeps.  Every so often, he'll jump down and sleep on the bathroom rug.

Its hard being here because we are constantly on guard - making sure he's not having accidents, making sure he's lifted up onto the counters so he can drink from the faucet.   We have had to keep him in the kitchen overnight so we can get some sleep and then every morning we start again....moving the gates, moving his food back to its normal spot, moving the litter box out of the kitchen, cleaning the litter box from the night, washing the bedding that he peed on the night before.  His eating has become a challenge too.  He'll eat something and love it for about 3 days and then he won't touch it, so I'm constantly trying to find new foods for him to eat.   Scrambled eggs with cheese, baked chicken breasts, canned chicken, cottage cheese....the other day he stole some salmon salad that I was eating.  He ate all of it...the bowtie pasta, the shredded carrots, the red bell peppers and the vinegar based dressing.   He has access to gourmet wet food, dry food and human food....between all 3, he eats a lot.   But his weight doesn't seem to change much.   Yesterday he was 4.5 lbs - down from his usual weight of 8 lbs.  Its so much work and its so emotionally draining.

I can't even talk about it...I don't even know why I write about here...probably because I need some outlet.  When I write here, I don't cry.  When I send an email or have to talk on the phone, I cry.

I know for sure that he won't get considerably better.   He'll have good days and bad ones, but I know this is close to the end for my sweet baby.  I've made the decision that when he can no longer eat or go up and down the stairs, then it may be time to say goodbye.  Our vet is so supportive.  I asked him directly if now is the time to start thinking about options and he said "not yet".   His thought that was that Jake is obviously debilitated but is still affectionate, still eating and still semi-active.  I trust our vet to be honest.  He knows how I feel about this - I will do anything and spend anything to help him.  But I won't have Jake suffer in any way.   When I see him giving up, then I will know.

He still fights when Dan gives him meds and he gave me a nice big chomp on the arm the other day while I was holding him for his IV treatment.  That bite actually made me happy because that is so Jake.  He's always been little, but he has a classic case of "short man syndrome'....he may be small, but he'll kick anyone's ass who messes with him. 

During the day while Dan is at work, I talk to Jake a lot.  I tell him that its OK to let go if he's ready.  I tell him to give me a sign that he's wants to go or that he wants me to stop.  So far, I can't tell what he wants.  Half of the time he looks at me with the same face and same eyes that he's looked at me with for the past 14 years.  Then other times, he seems blank.   I tell him what a good, good friend he's been and how happy he's made me.   I talk to him about all of the funny quirks he has and how much I'll miss him when he goes.   Maybe its just wishful thinking, but I'd like to believe he understands me.  I also like to believe that I'll be able to make the right decision when it gets to that point.

We've been taking a lot of pictures and video of Jake lately.  It makes me sad to think how few pictures I've taken of him over the past 14 years.   He was always a little camera-shy. 

 

The long weekend...

With our house being turned into "Kitty Hospital Central", we managed to survive the weekend.   The IV treatments were considerably harder on me than they were on poor Jake.  He doesn't even flinch when the needle goes in, but when the fluid starts, he gets PISSED OFF.

My job is to hold him as still as possible so the needle doesn't slip out.  On Friday, it slipped out 4 times.  Apparently, I'm not very good at restraining my cat.   The funny thing is that I've cut his nails since he was a kitten and have no problems with it.  I think this is hard now because he's so weak and pitiful.

But...overall he did a great job with the fluids.   Now the medicine is another story.  Dan has to administer a pill and a dropper full of drugs twice a day.   The pill isn't too much of a problem, but the liquid is a nightmare.  He gags, drools, licks his lips and struggles.   He's smart too...when Dan tries to open his mouth, he clenches his jaw as tight as he can.   The only saving grace is that he knows he's going to get a little cheese and some tuna juice when its done.

He's still eating, but he's so very weak.  He no longer attempts to jump up onto anything.  He will jump down, but he's unsteady on his feet.  This weekend he fell off the kitchen counter onto his back and he just laid there for a minute.  Of course, I started to cry and held him until I knew he was OK.   He was walking down the stairs and just tumbled down the last two.   I'm sure he's still trying to regain his strength from being so dehydrated, but its awful to watch.

Because our bed is so tall he doesn't jump up on his own anymore, so we bought him this gorgeous, plush kitty bed.  Of course, he avoided it for two days and then late last night, he decided to try it out and he loved it.  Whew.

He is also using all of the litter boxes, which is a huge relief.   I don't love having a litter box in my bedroom, my dining room AND the bar, but its a small price to pay to make sure he can access them easily.

I think its going to be a day by day thing with Jake.   A little progress then a bad day.  Hopefully the good days will outweigh the bad ones.

 

Jake Makes The Bed

Tidbits on a life...

I've been a horribly neglectful Vox, Facebook, Email and Phone friend for a while now.  Things have been really crazy around here lately and much of it is not good.   I feel as though I'm running on fumes lately.

So, here's what's on my mind today:

Jake.  My sweet 15 year old cat is rapidly fading.  He was recently diagnosed with Chronic Renal Failure (not uncommon in cats his age).  However, in the last week he has been quite ill.  His weight has dropped to 4 lbs - down from his normal weight of 8 lbs.  He is literally emaciated.   He picks at his prescription food, but is constantly begging for people food.  He will steal meat out of the pan, pasta off someone's plate and will lick the top of a mayonaise jar.  He will not drink water unless its out of a running faucet.  He doesn't purr, he doesn't play and he misses when he goes to jump onto anything.  He also has bouts of diarrhea.

So...last Friday we took him to the vet who ran test after test to find out that his CRF has not gotten any worse, but that is he severely dehydrated.  If we had waited an additional 5 days, it could have been too late to save him.  They gave him subcutaneous fluids on both Friday and Saturday and gave us instructions to feed him anything he will eat - the thought being that eating a lot of not-so-good food is better than eating a little of the good stuff.

We got him a very high quality wet food, which was eating like a madman.  We also purchased a filtered water fountain, which is completely ignores.  He seemed better until Wednesday when I twice caught him squatting on the floor peeing and noticed more diarrhea in his litter box.   We called the vet who advised us to take him into the emergency vet.  Dan brought him in on Wednesday night and once again Jake was severely dehydrated.  His eyes were sunken and he was extremely weak.  The emergency vet thought it was best to keep him overnight to keep him on IV fluids and run more tests.    Those tests came back showing that he is also suffering from some form of digestive disease, but without a biopsy it could be anything from inflammatory bowel disease to intestinal lymphoma.

Early Thursday morning, the emergency vet transferred him to our regular vet to continue on fluids and to keep an eye on him.   By mid-afternoon, he was doing better.   He was eating and going to the bathroom regularly.  He was "perky" and "searching out affection".    Another round of blood tests were ordered which showed that the kidney disease has not progressed and that all other functions are relatively normal.

While he was gone, I went around the house sniffing the carpet to see if I could detect any other accidents...because he only pees a little at a time, you can't see them.   With Ziggy's help, I noticed a few areas in the dining room and on the landing that he had peed.   I cleaned the carpets, Dan bought two additional litter boxes (so we could one on all three floors of our house) and we laid aluminum foil all over the areas where he had previously peed.

Jake came home last night, looking a little more filled out with a shaved leg where his IV was and with a generally pissed off attitude.   He ate a litte, sniffed around the new little boxes and laid down on the middle of the TV room floor.

According to the vet, he does not feel at this point that Jake's situation is terminal, but in watching him and seeing how lifeless he's become, I wonder if this is the beginning of the end of my sweet boy.   I fear it may be.  Perhaps he's just weak and needs to get his strength back, but I also wonder if he's just given up.  He seems to be lethargic and sad.

This weekend is going to be hard.  Dan has to give him daily subcutaneous fluid injections, force him to swallow a prednisone pill and shoot metronidazole liquid down his throat.  Thank God for Dan...I couldn't do those things.  I can barely watch him do it.  I consider myself to be a generally strong person, but when it comes to this situation I'm finding that I can barely cope.  I've been crying for 3 straight days, my head is throbbing and I can't sleep.  Both Dan and I are exhausted.   Thankfully, Dan is able to do the hard stuff.  I don't want to stress Jake out any more than he already is.

I can deal with the cost ($1000+ for vet bills alone...not to mention new litter boxes, drinking fountains, carpet cleaner, etc.), I can deal with how I'm feeling, but I can't deal with the idea of losing this cat.   I don't even like cats, but I'm nuts about this one.   Its so hard to watch him age before my eyes.  Its as though he went from being a happy, healthy cat to being an old, sick one in weeks.

If you pray, meditate, send good vibes or talk to a higher power, can you please ask that Jake doesn't suffer?  I won't ask for a longer life for him....but for the remaining life to be a good one without pain and suffering.  I guess in the final analysis that's what we want for all of our loved ones - the two legged or the four legged ones.

 

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