Gluten-Free Geriatric

 Nowadays my social-media scrolling is more passive, but back in the day I eagerly followed multiple blogs - one of which was Shauna Ahern, the “gluten-free girl”. One of my pet peeves is grown women simperingly referring to themselves as “girls”:  I just looked it up and Shauna is two years younger than me, cringe!

While part of me feels like I’m just chucking surplus funds down the rat-hole, I had signed up for a consultation with a nutritional consultant - we ran a full panel of blood work and I sat down to have a video chat with her yesterday. She saw no horrendous problems - she complimented me on my magnesium and vitamin D levels, my thyroid numbers are good, although I am a little low on my T3 conversion. There is evidence of chronic inflammation in my CBC, which fits the long Covid picture - Dr R said in her experience most of the issues are gut-health related. Long story short, it was a nice discussion - she recommended another basketful of supplements… if they help me feel better and sleep better, I’m certainly willing to give it a try! The hard part will be cutting out gluten and dairy for two weeks (dairy more so than gluten because I do appreciate that splash of cream in my coffee)

Fortunately she did not try to talk me into full-scale bioidentical hormone replacement (Nature has a plan, which includes women aging!) although I will take a low dose of progesterone upon her recommendation. My poor mother was thrown into surgical menopause at age 34 -  hers was a completely different case, as I know she had a miserable time of things. My gynecologist offered me estrogen cream several years ago as I was exhibiting some mild atrophy but I never used it - it honestly wasn’t bothering me.

Just to round out the picture, I had also put in an order for more of my Chinese herbs - I got a big box of assorted samples yesterday;  I don’t even know where to start?

At least Ms Aphrodite is responding to treatment beautifully - when I set her out on the grass the other night as I was changing the water in her tank, she got up on her legs/feet exhibiting proper “gator posture” -  I felt as proud as any mother watching her baby take its first steps. Her appetite remains finicky but I have to remember,  even though she’s the size of a baby, she’s almost 2 years old and as such, her appetite is probably more along the lines of a juvenile with a couple of meals per week. She has been moderately stunted and we’ll have to see how much ground she can make up. I’ve got to consult with my colleagues at the zoo as far as vaccination protocols - for a while we were vaccinating crocodilians against several viral diseases including West Nile virus.

                                             This meme just spoke to me for some odd reason??

                     Look at all that colorful packaging - that makes me feel better,  just admiring it

Life is But a Dream

 (All hail to Star Trek 5, which many pan as the bum steer of the series but I still love it)

Life DID feel like a dream yesterday as Zach finally achieved that (first?**) elusive college degree. It’s been like a steeplechase: so many obstacles, putting this mama in mortal fear that he would ever achieve much of anything after what his father put him through.

Divorce & custody battles throughout his childhood, culminating in the horror show of being wrenched away from his school, his friends, and all of his normal routines to spend his senior year completely under his father’s boot heel in that backwater fundamentalist settlement of Poetry.

I knew backlash was inevitable but he was intent on continuing on to Texas Tech - I was pleased as punch that he even managed to gain admission in the first place, after the way his grades had tanked during his junior and senior years! But between acting out and hooking up with a similar party-hearty girlfriend, Z flunked out of Texas Tech, returned home with his tail tucked between his legs, then bounced back-and-forth between here and Houston for a while until that relationship had run its course. (Always painful to watch your child struggle)

Re-enrolled in community college, earned his associate’s degree and transferred to UT-Dallas for the spring of 2020, just in time for the Covid lockdowns! My boy didn’t seem to be able to catch a break, but he soldiered on - took him twice as long as it might have otherwise, but as I said, I’m still unbelievably proud of him. Mother’s Day weekend went well for me, between getting in a ride on Saturday, dinner with Z & V Saturday night, and then another family dinner of Chinese food with Victoria‘s grandparents Sunday night.

I took half a milligram of alprazolam Monday morning, so I could smile placidly at Ex and the slut yesterday - thankfully they did not try to muscle in to sit with us, nor join us for our celebratory luncheon afterwards. Andy is an adjunct professor at UTD, so we were able to get El Primo third-row seats. My beloved cousin John drove in from Tyler to watch Zach walk the stage. It took us a while to find him in the mob after the ceremony, but that worked out just as well because his father found Z first and that gave them ample opportunity to visit, take a few photographs and then go on their merry ways. Z said he felt like a cheap whore when his father handed him a card with $100 bill in it - this man who, of course, contributed not one red cent towards his higher education.

Zach had selected a Cajun-themed seafood restaurant for our celebratory luncheon which was very nice  -this reminds me to go post a nice review for our awesome waiter Darnell. We then adjourned back to Andy & Adela’s house for cheesecake… I felt like a deflated balloon after all these celebrations. I’m glad Peran drove so I could close my eyes in the car for a few minutes during the drive home.

And then even better - Ms Aphrodite eagerly ate four chicken hearts and a liver (she has obviously been fed with forceps before)  which should make her rehab easier. I got all my little dragons fed - Bonnie the tegu is easy since I just have to open a can of dog food, and for Claude I defrosted a rat.

Window of Opportunity

 It’s been a whirlwind of a week, with getting my truck out of the shop Monday night, rescuing Aphrodite, and watching the weather forecast as a brief window of opportunity opened for me to be able to slip away to the ride yesterday in nearby Cleburne…

Kim had to reroute trails since the ranch was absolutely waterlogged, but our weather was beautiful yesterday; clouds closed in again last night and this morning it’s gray and drizzly again. So I’ll throw up a few pictures before I have to get on with my Mother’s Day duties which include showering my mom, probably taking her out for some Tex-Mex for lunch, and hopefully having dinner with Z & V tonight. My big plans of renting a minivan to caravan up to Z’s graduation were torpedoed since Andy won’t ride in a “Nazi car” (a Mercedes-Benz Sprinter van). Some people take political correctness a little too far - everything is owned by multinational corporations these days! but it’s not worth arguing about. We’ll just have to make a big carbon footprint with Peran & I driving our own vehicle, Zach & Victoria taking her grandparents, and her dad driving his own car too. I’d better pack my new rain jacket because tomorrow looks like a 50/50 chance of more rain - today is 100%.

I want to show these colorful tights to Joseph and tease him about getting better riding britches

My friend Jonni got a better sunrise picture than me - the 50-milers went out half an hour earlier

Making the final turn through the pasture gate to head back into camp - good job Silas! A very pleasant ride, once we got his initial shenanigans out of the way: he could see the other riders heading out and threw a minor fit when I first mounted up - I couldn’t believe this was my placid Silas!?!

Welcome to Holland

 (Again, a probable repeat of an old blog title based on a very good post by a parent of a disabled child - describing how, although you may have WANTED to go to France Italy, you wound up in Holland and have to make the best of the situation)

As a veterinarian, I am often asked to name my favorite species, which is grossly unfair! it’s like asking a mother to name her favorite child… I love them all dearly, but I do have a soft spot for the reptiles & amphibians. Generally had to do “catch and release” when I was a kid, because my mom wouldn’t tolerate slimy or scaly creatures in the house. So I had short stints with a bullfrog, red-eared sliders and a couple of box tortoises (mom was snake-phobic; when I got my boa constrictor in college, she wouldn’t set foot in my room for 6 months). Then married H1, so I was out of the house in short order anyway!

I met Michael through a herpetology club of which he was the president at the time. He had a closetful of snakes when I met him, but had to rehome a lot of them when apartment management raised objections. Over our years of marriage he lost interest, and our reptile collection dwindled as we concentrated more on the equines. Must be something in the bloodlines, though, with Zach developing “the itch”!?!

I’ve always cast an eye upon our beautiful pond, thinking how much I’d like to see an alligator swimming there. The problem would be partitioning him/her off from the rest of the critters: I don’t want horses to be bitten or dogs to be eaten. I have puzzled out the engineering of artfully fencing off the shallow end of the pond - the problem is creating something flood-proof.

Here I need to insert that Chinese character which is translated as “danger + opportunity”; the game warden confiscated a baby alligator that some fools were keeping in a 50-gallon aquarium tank at a restaurant in Lancaster. So she was being fed chicken nuggets, french fries and other assorted junk foods. The poor thing has severe nutritional deficiencies (metabolic bone disease) so this will be a real challenge to even see if she can attain any decent quality of life. Peran is grumbling about “another damn reptile” but honestly, what did he think life with a veterinarian was going to be like?? She is the very definition of an attractive nuisance so I can’t set her up at the clinic; she’ll have to stay at the house and I’ll transport her back & forth for her treatments.

Meet Aphrodite (I may change her name, but for now I just love love love this poor pitiful little creature)  - photos are loading too slowly so I’ll update later

“Welcome to Holland” by Emily Perl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It feels like this.....

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?!" you say. "What do you mean Holland? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay. The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine, and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around....

and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills.... and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy.... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned." And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away.... because the loss of that dream is a very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things.....about Holland.

Siete de Mayo

 I had to grind my gears for a few moments when I awakened from a nice Interlude of Deep Sleep: yes, it is Tuesday! I made a headlong rush through my busy Monday** but managed to slip away a few minutes early to go retrieve my truck. Another $1800 invested, but she seems to be running fine although she now smells like an ordinary stinky diesel! I guess that diesel exhaust fluid does do something?

** perhaps today I’ll get an actual lunch hour instead of 20 minutes, which I know is better than nothing but a little aggravating. But some mornings are just like that - I keep on getting held up by this, that,  and the other appointment until before I know it,  it’s over an hour later than when I normally get to work in the surgery trailer. (Ideal scheduling has me seeing appointments from 9 AM to 10 AM, surgeries from 10 AM to 12 noon, and then on a good day we enjoy a lunch hour) 

More good news - Christina has been released from the hospital as the rest of my week starts to come into focus. Zach took his last final exam (which he has a good feeling about, thank God!) so the rest of the week will be a little R&R combined with job hunting for him. Today he enjoys his own celebratory lunch with his professor who is taking his students out - sounds like a nice guy! There were some momentary concerns about the Palestinian protest encampment that was developing, but campus police dispersed it. Smoothing out my tinfoil hat - I find it interesting that four years ago, we had the summer of BLM and this year we have “Free Palestine” protests, all closely matched to the election cycle. Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln,  how did you enjoy the play?

https://open.substack.com/pub/boriquagato/p/reichstag-fired-up?r=2ta96&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=email

But for now I’m gonna concentrate on my own little universe, deciding how things will fall into place for my Mother’s Day weekend. I think I will rent a minivan to transport all of us to graduation: between Peran and I, Victoria and Zach, &Victoria‘s grandparents it will be more efficient means of transportation especially with a Adela’s mobility problems.  Unfortunately I won’t be extending an invitation to Zach’s  father and his soulmate. 

Seis de Mayo

 (Happy Birthday to my dear friend Charles - he was feeling chatty last night; we spent an hour on the phone! But I had lots of good news to catch him up on - Zach’s impending graduation and all those happy plans**)

I had all weekend where I didn’t have to set an alarm - it’s kind of sad when the highlight of your day is tucking yourself into bed and realizing you can sleep in… that translated until shortly before 8 AM Saturday & a quarter till nine Sunday (!!!) I had gotten up to let the dogs out a little after 7 AM, laid back down and dozed off. I peeled myself slowly off the mattress, being very stiff and sore - I think I didn’t drink enough water on Saturday. It certainly wasn’t overexertion - I hauled in a short load of feed, but surely that wasn’t enough to get me all stove up?

** all plans will not be joyous after Zach finally succeeded in getting through to his father who will be attending the graduation with his lovely bride (face palm). As I told Charles, I will just take a Xanax and practice my queenly presentation (a Mona Lisa smile, condescending head tilt, etc). It’s Zach’s day after all - let me just pray that his dad vamooses after the ceremony and doesn’t try to shoehorn into any of our celebratory plans thereafter (fingers crossed). Count on that man to try to claim any reflected glory when he has not contributed one red cent towards Zach’s college education, or for that matter any support whatsoever  as soon as he turned 18. I found myself a festive floral dress, invested in a new body-shaper garment and remain 14 years younger than that hag (Ha!). Now the only sticking point may be the footwear - I cannot squeeze my poor crippled feet into heels anymore so I may just buy a nice new pair of tennis shoes in basic black.

Hopefully, Zach will follow through on his promise to have some photos taken this week so I can order some graduation announcements for him. We’re not fishing for gifts - I just want the world to know! Oh happy day!!!

Cinco de Mayo

 The forecasted thunderstorms held off until last night, so this morning I got up to “Marshland” once again (a flooded-out barn aisle with my pond overflowing its banks). It’s just as well because I couldn’t go anywhere anyway with my truck being back in the shop! My Final Option is underway - I had my truck towed to another mechanic** on Friday - he’s going to strip out all the emissions control nonsense and hopefully get me back to a good, basic semi-reliable Ford truck again. Perhaps I am in error in feeling this way, but I’m a little put out with the Ford dealership since I tell them each and every time to do a general inspection for roadworthiness; they know I haul medium to long distances with my horse trailer. Apparently I only popped a hose last Saturday, but as I continued to drive it (what else could I do with my horses in the trailer?), that improperly-metered turbo fuel leak melted all those emissions control components. They quoted me $6K to put it back in good working order - after I had just invested $4K in the radiator and motor-mount work that wasn’t going to happen. What is irritating is thinking about the fact that perhaps they did not make note of an aging hose which could’ve been replaced at the same time?

** of course the Ford dealership won’t be responsible for taking off all the DEF crap which gives us diesel truck owner so much grief. I was talking to my man Larry at the feed store yesterday - he also is dissatisfied with his late model Dodge dually. You can start the biggest cat fight imaginable by opening the can of worms which is the “best truck” debate. I’ve got bad news for you: there ain’t one these days, at least not in the heavy duty options! I drove Old Reliable,  our  97 Chevy half-ton which has 385K miles on it but still runs like a top - if only we could Hulk it out so we could pull my big trailer??

I invested yesterday afternoon in going to visit Christina again - thankfully she is off oxygen, still on IV antibiotics but her color looks much better. I am really pushing for her to come to Bristol and take a few hyperbaric oxygen treatments when they let her out of the hospital. I took one for myself yesterday which was long overdue.

https://www.rchyperbaric.com/

Hard to believe this place has been literally 3 miles up the road from me all along! It is the owner’s mission to bring affordable hyperbaric oxygen treatments to all ($35 for an hour, when most Big D clinics charge $150-200 per half hour!). 

And, miracle of miracles, Peran went for his first session yesterday! But he balked just now when I suggested a Tex-Mex breakfast to celebrate Cinco de Mayo - we used to go into town almost every Sunday for brunch, but P’s Serious Health Kick put an end to that tradition. (Yes, I admit I am a creature of habit)