We Didn’t Do It

I couldn’t.

The appointment for Ozzy’s euthanasia was today but instead I cancelled and asked for more pain killers for him.

I was originally going to go for the ones she’d given us before because they seemed to work pretty well for him. They gave him a break from the pain it seemed to me and he was able to sleep. He was not bothered by whatever it is inside his bladder that sends him to the litter box about every ten minutes.

But when I called to cancel the appointment, the vet herself came to the phone and suggested a stronger one since Ozzy is more in a state for hospice care. So that’s what we picked up.

B and I just gave him his first dose.

This morning, as the time crept closer this, I became more and more apprehensive.  He is so alert and doesn’t seem to be on the edge of death at all.  Maybe I’m in denial. Maybe I don’t understand the seriousness of it.

I just realized that I wasn’t ready.

There are other factors, but having him euthanized the day before the anniversary of my father’s death…well, it just wasn’t an option for my psyche.

Kitty is still eating and drinking and even getting underfoot when the food is being dished out. So still having an appetite seems like a sign, to at least give him (and us) a bit more time.

 

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So I Just Found Out

I was doing some googling after speaker fuck pulled in with his blasting crap. I called the cops first of course so I could have that shit on record. Whether there is a record of it or not if the cops don’t actually hear the noise themselves, is beyond me.

Of course he was only out there for a short time and so the cops missed him again. I mean how am I to know he will only be out there for a couple minutes or 45 minutes when he pulls in disturbing the peace?

With his track record I have every reason to believe it could be a while…long enough to effect my health. The stress of this is real.

First I googled to see how long an eviction process takes, because I got word that this is what the landlord (which is a RE agency but I’m sure someone owns that agency) of that property next door is working on. Too bad they can’t legally kick him out yesterday.

But then I googled to see if I could sue for this mother fucker’s noise and guess what!!! I CAN!!!

And the amount I can ask for is quite a bit for the state I live in.

Not sure I will do this. But it was nice to see that it’s possible. It would be a small claims thing and I would sue the RE estate agency, not the asshole who’s doing it. Because the RE agency is the one with the money. If that dude had money, he wouldn’t be living there.

So I will call a friend of mine tomorrow ( a lawyer) and see what he has to say given the details and information I have. The only thing I have to go by as far as the eviction goes, is that the woman I had been in contact with when complaining about this asshole, told me they are working on an eviction. That shit takes weeks.

So how do I know he won’t fight it? And if he does, how do I know he won’t win?

And if he wins that means he stays. And that means no eviction.   My stress levels are already through the roof.

But a nice sum of money? Well that could help to relax me.

Not only could I move but it would bring me some much needed satisfaction to win a law suit against this company that moved this fuck head in there.

Darkness Lifting a Bit

I’m waiting on a couple burgers to cook. Part of the problem is certainly my negligence in taking care of my ‘diet’. Not diet in the sense of restrictions and something to ‘go on’ to reach a particular goal. “Diet” as in what I eat. Like you’d talk about an animal’s diet…what they eat. Period.

There’s a lot to be said for keeping blood sugar in balance, whether my issue is high or low…I don’t know. But I do know keeping it in check makes a difference in my mood and state of mind.

Another thing that helps that I’ve written some about before is kratom. Just like most other supplements though I am sensitive to it and need to be careful. Too much and it does the opposite of what I need it to do and taking it too frequently, I have wheezing issues. It can also feed the rage too. So yeah, it’s a bit of a tight rope. I will go weeks at a time sometimes without taking any.

Today, a short time ago I took some, mixed in with some fresh squeezed grapefruit juice.15 minutes later, I feel less depressed. I feel a bit more organized in my thinking and the darkness has lifted a lot. It also gave me the push within to want to do some things for myself.

Last night I went to a library and wrote out a list in my journal of things I want to have with me in a backpack when I leave the apartment.  Before going to the library, I stopped at Whole Foods to get something to eat. The longer the errands took me the better (ie., speaker asshole) and I was hungry.

When I got back out to my car, I realized I could’ve used something I didn’t think I had with me. (Turns out I did but didn’t know it and so didn’t use it.)

When I got to the library I realized there was something else I could’ve used while I was there and didn’t have.
So I said to myself, “You want to put together a grab-and-go type of bag so that when you want to leave the shit-hole you live in, you don’t have to worry about thinking through what’s needed.”

So I made a list of the stuff I could think of that I would want in a bug-out  bag needed for a local escape. Well, I took care of gathering those things just a little while ago and put them into a small nylon backpack that I have. I did it because I felt motivated as a result of taking the kratom.

I can think of other things I’d like to add but there isn’t room for much, so at some point I will want a bigger back pack, especially so I don’t have to carry multiple bags with me.

My non-traumatized brain likes to keep things simple, efficient and organized.  And I can say, that when kratom is absorbed in the way I need it, I feel almost ‘normal.’  I am able to organize better, I don’t feel like a lead weight while I’m doing chores and I actually feel like being alive.

But again, and I think this is important, there is a sweet spot for me and kratom and I don’t always hit it.   Even the same kind and same dose can have a different effect on a different day.

There’s some other things I want to do too in the next hour or so, and that seems and feels more possible than it did only a couple hours ago.

 

 

Talked to the Vet Today

Ozzy went to the vet on Friday. Because I couldn’t get myself there, B took a long lunch and took him. Once there and urine was taken from Ozzy for a couple labs, B called and put me on speaker phone so the vet could talk to both of us and let us know what she thinks and what our options are. She also kept our lack of money in mind as well.

Note: The vet has been very understanding and compassionate to Ozzy’s needs and comfort as well as to us humans. She is aware of the PSTD I have and our lack of funds and has been really sweet and helpful in regards to all of that.

This has been a financial and emotional burden on me (and probably B even though he doesn’t show a whole lot of emotion).  I hate to look at it and say it that way but veterinary care is not and never will be free. And that’s understandable. Of course. That’s how the world works. I’m not mad about that. And I also do think that broke folk should not have pets.  Unless there’s a back up of care. Also I understand that pets can come into our lives when they are young and need little care and when we’re not broke. So when the financial shit hits the fan, wtf do you do?

Ozzy was (sort of) found. It’s a whole other story that deserves its own post. We didn’t buy him, adopt him or take him from a friend.  We have no idea his age. I know enough to know he was a young adult at the time of acquiring him in 2005 but it’s ALL I know regarding his age.  He could have been as young as a year but he could’ve been as old as 5. My actual guess is that he was somewhere between the ages of a year and 3 years.  So he’s at least 14.

He is in, at best discomfort and at worst, in pain.

The vet gave us an anti-biotic pill to possibly rule out an infection if it didn’t work. And if it worked it would also rule out a tumor and/or stone.  She suspected a stone or a tumor more than an infection, because when she went to take a urine sample from him, not only did he pee all over the place, but a lot of blood came out with it.

The problem with anti-biotics and Ozzy is that he gets diarrhea almost immediately and sometimes constipation after starting them. It’s trading one problem for another and in either case the cat is miserable and understandably so.

In the past, we’ve stuck it out and continued to give him the anti-biotic but that was for his ear infections and the second time we didn’t finish the bottle because the GI issues got too bad.

So with this anti-biotic, we have only given him one dose since Friday. But the vet also gave us six pain pills so that we could address the pain of whatever it is causing it in Ozzy’s bladder. Those have been a relief for both him and me. It distresses me to hear him cry and with all that is on my plate presently it has been difficult to tolerate.

Today, talking to the vet on the phone, she recommended euthanasia…but ONLY because I asked her what she would do in my position…my exact position…no money, sick cat.

She also stated that she suspects a tumor more than a stone because of the amount of blood she observed on Friday.  She posed scenarios of coming to her with all the money in the world too and said that the conversation would be similar.

If it was affordable to us, she would recommend an X-ray to see what is actually in there, but would also say that there is a strong possibility that he would have to be euthanized. And then there’s the matter of surgery. That even if the money for surgery was there, whether stone(s) or tumor, because of his age, he is not a great candidate for surgery.  She also said that his major weight loss is also a sign of cancer too.

I know this is inevitable. For lots of reasons. I gave him a pain pill earlier today and he crawled under B’s bed and took a nap. When he reappeared, he wanted some treats so instead I gave him some dehydrated liver that I actually dehydrated for myself to make capsules with. But he absolutely LOVES the stuff. He almost choked on a piece one night though (literally) and I had to give him the Heimlich and B stuck his finger down Oz’s throat to get it out. But today, I broke it up into tinier pieces so he could have some again. I was mindful to make the pieces small enough so none of them would lodge in his throat.

If we just feed him pain pills so he can continue to live pain free, all his life will be is sleeping, eating and using the litter box.  I mean his quality of life has been pretty shitty since we moved here anyway.

We came from a house in a neighborhood where he could be outside almost as much as he wanted to be. By the time we moved he’d become almost wild.  He wanted to be out way more than he wanted to be in. And we moved in August so there was a lot of good weather left at that point for him to enjoy. And he missed it all.

That alone has made him miserable.  I hate that the end of his life has to end in this shit-hole. I will find a way to get him outside one last time at least.

The Escape

I hear people say it’s the coward’s way out
But is it?
Is it so cowardly to take that plunge into what’s not known.
Seems to me that staying with the devil you know
Is more cowardly than taking a chance
To find out about the devil you don’t.

When help seems to allude and evade
No one hears or seems to care
No one there
No one to come to your aid.

It’s ongoing and the one who’s wrong
Gets away with it all along
So what to do ‘coz there’s no escape
Becoming increasingly irate
It can drive the innocent insane
And the situation escalates

No end in sight
Taking flight
Toward the fight

No justice to be had
The violation invades
Continuing the tirades

But still
No solution
No resolution
It’s overkill
I need a pill
Or how ’bout the whole fucking bottle.

We’re Gonna Get Kicked Outta Here

Tonight I could not control my anger. I had what I can only describe as a rageful explosion. B and I had gone out and when we pulled up fuckhead was in his car blasting and banging louder than I’ve ever heard it.  I am at the end of my rope.

I’ve become just as frustrated with the cops as I am with speaker fuck.

They show up right as he turns it down, which I’m sure makes anyone calling them about a loud ass noise disturbance look unreasonable.

Tonight this is what happened and when the cop approached the little sociopathic weasel he said, “Oh sorry, I just got here.”

Which was a fucking lie because he was already there when B and I got home. I called 911 from my car, which took about 5 minutes with all the fucking questions they ask,  and B called too I found out, when he got upstairs.

Now what? Well I lost it after the cop pulled away. I threw shit across my room. I broke an old ashtray that belonged to my grandmother. I punched the closet door. I screamed myself almost horse.

We keep calling only to have them show up to give him absolutely no consequences. Meanwhile he keeps us living in hell, waiting waiting waiting for the next big blast and for how long will it last. We are at his mercy. He controls whether we live in peace or not.

How is this even close to right? How is it there is no other recourse other than to futilely call 911?

Looking for Some Suggestions

I need some suggestions to help cope with living in a situation with a person I don’t like being around.

I should’ve left many years ago but I didn’t.  So here I am, more stressed than ever. Things are piling up. Sick cat, noise disturbance next door in an apartment building full of tenants that have not and will not complain.

The opportunity to leave many years ago is obviously gone.

But I still need to leave. Eventually.

Please, does anyone have suggestions on books or websites to help someone cope in a situation they don’t want to be in, until they can get out.

I’m not in danger physically. And I know that I have to find a source of income. I’m working on that.

I’m talking about the emotional part, the parts where I REPEATEDLY don’t feel heard, understood or listened to. The part where you’d expect some emotion but all I get is apathy.

The part where he needs to take care of something important but instead wastes hours organizing photographs by date on his hard drive. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But when you have no will, no living will, no savings, no plan for retirement…and your over 60, the fucking photos can wait.)

He has no capacity to care for himself so I know he can’t really care for me the way I wanted a man to care for me.

I’m not looking for another man to replace him. I just want to be able to be independent. If I meet someone that’s fine but that’s not what this is about. I just want to live what I have left of my life without such difficulty communicating with a significant other. I say something directly and he acts like he has no clue what I said. Or makes it more difficult than it actually is.

For so long I didn’t get it and admittedly I still try to get him to understand. To get him to…be different. But each time I do that…afterward I’m like, “Duh, he is who he is. He is not going to change.” It is an issue I’ve always had. Instead of seeing someone for who they actually are, I have tried to twist that square peg into that round hole, never with any success. Of course not! And as a result I’ve missed out on a lot of myself and my own preferences, who I actually am and what kind of person I’d like to be with .

 

More Snow on First Full Day of Spring

I love how the snow falling comes across on video. It’s so relaxing. This is the type of snow that the best snowmen are made from. This was recorded in the afternoon around 2pm on Wednesday March 21. First full day of Spring!

The snow is supposed to continue falling until sometime tonight. Plow trucks are already out.