This sucks!

I'm at work right now. I can't concentrate at all.

My dog had surgery this morning to remove a mass on his side. When the vet opened him up he said that he was pretty certain it was cancerous, and that it was pretty invasive. What that means for the time being, I don't know. The mass is being sent off for testing to determine the type and severity of the cancer. We won't have results for a few days.

We adopted this dog from the pound 10 years ago (almost to the day!) when he was 2 months old. He's older than our children. I knew he wasn't going to last much longer, but he hasn't been acting like anything is wrong.

In fact, the only reason we brought him to the vet is because, what we had been told a few months earlier was just a lipoma and nothing to worry about, had changed size and texture drastically over the last week.

It's just such a shock.

I feel like I want the last 12 months back. It seems like everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong.

Starting at about this time last year:

Hubby lost his job because his employer ran out of money to pay their employees. He found another job, but it was still stressful for a little while.

Found out the Chipmunk was missing a testicle.

Around labor day, the Chipmunk had Roseola twice! A hospital visit for dehydration was included somewhere in there for him.

The Chipmunk had surgery to locate the missing testicle a few days before Halloween. We spent the night of Halloween in the ER due to an infection from the surgery, as well as dehydration.

My husband broke his shoulder on thanksgiving day.

Right before valentine's day I came down with mastoiditis - aka the ear infection from HELL - that lasted 4 months.

In the beginning of March, the kids and I all had the stomach flu so bad the Chipmunk and I had to be hospitalized for dehydration.

In June, I was diagnosed with scoliosis, degenerating disk disease, and bone spurs - at least I finally got an explanation for the back pain I've been suffering with for years.

The day after fathers day Hubby took 30 Tylenol PM and 6 vicodin, in an attempt to kill himself. A result of him taking too many prescribed steroids for his asthma and allergies.

The next week, the Monkey was diagnosed with asthma and has been given the greatest number of prescriptions than anyone else in the household combined.

The week after that, it was confirmed that the Chipmunk is extremely allergic to cows milk - making it nearly impossible for daycare to feed him anything she feeds anyone else in her care.

And now, the dog.

I think I would really like to slow down for a little bit. If I believed in god I would probably be thinking something along the lines of "you don't get more than you can handle".

But I don't believe in god. So, I have nothing to rely on but myself.

And I'm not sure how much more I can handle.


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Stress

So much has been going on my life lately that I'm not sure I can handle it all.

My back pain has been pretty bad lately. It's really affecting my attitude. I'm trying to get my chair at work fixed, but it doesn't look like it will happen anytime soon. That's what I get for working for the government.

This is what's been bugging me lately too. I try and take care of myslef and do the right things for my health, but everything just seems to get even more difficult the harder I try. At this point I'm thinking I shouldn't bother about the chair. But, I know that once it is fixed I'll feel much better. At least I hope that's the case.

The Hubs seemed depressed this morning. I'm worried about him all the time. I want him tell me what's wrong, but I don't want him to feel like I'm prying. I also don't want him to fell like if I don't try to find out what's wrong, then I don't care. It feels like I can't win no matter what I do.


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Journaling

I started seeing a new therapist a few weeks ago. I only saw the old one a few times too. I decided to change because she couldn't remember my name. Kind of important to remember who you're speaking to, don't you think?

Anyway, the new has asked that I start keeping a journal. I didn't tell her about the blog. Couldn't tell you why. Maybe it's because I post so rarely here that I don't really consider it a journal. Maybe it's because I don't think I could stand her wanting to read it. Who knows. I just know I don't want to tell her about it.

Anyway, I've never kept a real write-with-paper-and-pen journal. I hate the physical act of writing, it makes my hand hurt and my handwriting sucks so much I'm afraid I'd worry more about how the writing looked than what I actually wanted to write.

So I guess for now this will have to be my journal. I hope the few people who stop by don't mind. If you do, let me know and I might consider using an actual hard-copy journal. We'll see.


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Playing favorites

Yesterday I downloaded a song solely because it's the Chipmunk's favorite. I've never done this before, not even for the Monkey. It just makes me so happy when he starts dancing and singing along.

I'm afraid that the Chipmunk is turning into my favorite kid. I will do anything for him, even if it means that I suffer. He'll cry to be picked up, and I'll do it. He'll beg to go outside, and I'll go with him.

I'm not this accomodating with the Monkey. Is it because he's older and I can reason with him? Perhaps. Is it because if the Chipmunk doesn't get what he wants he throws a mega-tantrum? Maybe. But I'm not sure I don't get some sort of satisfaction from making him happy.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy making the Monkey happy, but the amount of joy the Chipmunk gets from little things seems a little intoxicating and I'd do anything to get that feeling myself. So, if I can make him happy, why not?

Am I wrong for doing this?

Does the Monkey realize the Chipmunk is my favorite?

Am I Spoiling him?



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