It was great to see the change in the Mighty Dachshund by the evening of the day we took her to the vet. In fact, she seemed calmer even on the ride home. With a shot for the itch, she got her first decent night's sleep in months. That translated into a better night's sleep for my wife, too, since they sleep in the same room. If the anti-itch shot is used too often to treat her allergy symptoms, it could make her diabetic. Considering her age and discomfort, we've decided to use it however much she actually needs it, and if she turns diabetic, we'll deal with it.
Speaking of dogs (and cats), just a word to the wise, Some folks are answering those “found dog” ads and collecting dogs to use as bait for dog fighting. If you find a lost pet, don't advertise the breed or show its picture. Make THEM furnish that information to prove ownership. The world is full of evil, cold-hearted people.
My own health is less stellar than the pup’s. It seems to just be a matter of good days and bad. On the good days, I feel like I'm getting better. On the bad ones, like yesterday, I'll have to stop a half-dozen times to catch my breath WHILE SHOWERING! Yesterday evening, it was finally cool enough that I could stack some wood and get it off the ground. And so, I would stack 3-4 pieces of wood and sit down to catch my breath, over and over until the small job was done. I'm sure I would have looked like the world's laziest woodcutter to anyone watching, but at least I won't have to mow around those pieces of wood any longer.
I've actually started using the electric cart at Walmart on occasion. I try to use it quickly and get done, so someone who needs it worse than I can have it when they come in. Our gutters need cleaned before this fall’s crop of leaves start falling, so I'm going to have to hire the neighbor, since I can't climb a ladder anymore. I'm thinking of turning one upstairs window into a clandestine door, so I can access the roof for small jobs. Like using the cart, it’s another adjustment that needs made.
My health situation has caused my wife and I to have some discussions about what to do should either of us croak. It's a discussion every couple should have. She didn't have it with her first husband, and says a lot of things would have been easier on her if they'd prepared. I've got a “little black book” now sitting on my desk, filled not with the names of loose women, but with instructions of things to do after I'm gone. It covers life insurance, funeral preferences, bequeathments and so on.
There's a tendency to ask why God allows such things, when trouble or tragedy wallops us up alongside the head. I know I wondered why the Lord sent me to the telemarketing job and then left me there for four years. Later, I realized it was to show me how much I'd taken the good things in my life for-granted. I suspect it’s a similar reason that he's let my health turn sour for a while. Plus, if our bodies are the Lord's temples, I have certainly been guilty of dereliction of duty, when it comes to maintenance.
I'd originally planned to retire at 62, since the numbers said that I'd have to live an extra 13 years to recoup the money I'd lose by NOT retiring early. I figured the chances of a fat guy living to age 75 were slim (pardon the pun). Then I decided that I wouldn't be able to afford to do so. This breathing thing has got me re-convinced that early is best. Maybe I can find some way to enjoy a bit of life while I still can. Of course, Obama may yet take away that option. If he does, you can be sure no future republican would restore it. Regardless, the Lord will provide. © 2015