Up & Down the Scale

 I lurched out of bed this morning in a frantic race to get to the toilet; my stomach had been unsettled all night. Straight to the shower for a thorough washup & there went today’s plans for any sort of ride - BTDT!

Probable causes: lapses in dietary judgment topped off by yesterday’s Braum’s cheeseburger. Doors seem to be closing off to me - Chick-Fil-A, Mickey D’s, now Braum’s. Of course it’s “good riddance”, all that fast food crap is no bueno… 

Z let V back home under the humanitarian flag of illness - staying out of it (of course) w/only one ironic comment about this being the “in sickness” part of his vows. Z called me Friday night to report that poor Adela (V’s grandma) had been hospitalized with a UTI & pneumonia. Like a good little drone**, I headed across town yesterday, planning to visit her in the hospital, only to find that she had been discharged! Thankfully, it was not very far out of the way so I just proceeded on to Andy & Adela’s house to deliver my flowers & fruit, & a small care pkg of brisket which P had smoked… I dropped by Z’s to deliver his last belated birthday gift: an AI art-replica book of our dear friend Charles; I thought it was something special. “The power of advertising”, I suppose.

** I consider Andy & Adela family members now, no matter how things turn out between Z & V. Adela called me last night to thank me kindly for the brisket; she said it was wonderful! (which it was, even though I could take no particular credit for that: you should’ve seen all the hopeful doggy eyes when P was carving it up, looking for scraps!)

Z expressed an interest in attending the Buddhist temple - I said I would be glad to accompany him, but I didn’t hear anything from him this morning. I made P a poached-eggs-on-toast Father’s Day brunch which he seem to appreciate. Thankfully my own GI tract seems to have settled down. I read Mayim Bialik’s miserable account of her experience with GLP-1’s & count myself lucky to be part of that black-box warning (medullary thyroid cancer). It brought back echoes of when I was misdiagnosed at age 25: part of me envisioned becoming an ethereal waif on chemotherapy. Yeah, thanks but I’d rather be alive! While diarrhea is one of the hallmarks of my disease, I blame my mishaps on dietary indiscretions & my own souvenir of childbirth, a third-degree perineal tear…

“Weeks after I took that single shot, I found myself frantically pulling off the 405—to my law-abiding son’s horror—to lock myself in a convenience store bathroom for an indeterminate amount of time. “

A Day of Rest

 Absolving myself of the guilt from lazing around yesterday - treating Sunday like a true “day of rest”. My sole accomplishments were laundering my bed clothes (including the mattress pad) & clearing the kitchen counter of junk mail so it’s actually a usable surface. My subconscious rewarded me with a pleasant dream about my mother early this morning (I awakened at 5 AM but stayed in bed dozing lightly since I didn’t want to disturb mah little dogs!), even as the guilt over my increasingly rare visits towers over me like a tidal wave…

Z’s relationship seems to be in the ICU after what he described to me as “cheating”, which he later explained was “emotional but not physical” on V’s part. That roller coaster whipsaws around the tracks - they went on Z’s mini-birthday trip back to Vegas (6/06 - 09). Z had to hop a plane for a business trip to Midland Wed & Thurs, but started texting me as he was boarding his plane Thursday evening that he was “done”; he was coming home to evict V & be done with it. Yet they reconciled & immediately took another tiny staycation at a downtown Dallas hotel Fri & Sat. I met them for an early dinner Saturday to give Zach his belated birthday gifts - but most of all I wanted to see him with my own eyes to assess the situation. Z looked pale & haggard, but in a few brief moments I got w/him when Ms V went to the ladies room, he swore things were alright & they were trying to work it out.

Barely four months in & this prognosis appears grave to me... Of course I cannot fix these issues for my son, all I can do is "be here" as a semi-neutral sounding board. I carried on with my plans to ride w/Julz at the beautiful Wyatt Ranch Sat morning. I can only pray that Zach might experience the therapeutic benefits of a nice ride sometime soon.

                                           A slightly different perspective on Ye Olde Rugged Cross

Wasted Days & Wasted Nights

 (Subtitled: “Val pays the toll for peer pressure”)

My trail-riding crew had a campout planned for last weekend - “Return to Ebenezer”, a nice campground on the shores of Lake Sam Rayburn deep down in SE Texas… however, I originally was not planning on going since tomorrow shall be my son‘s 28th birthday; I had vague hopes that we might do “something” - at least dinner if not a day trip? (Z keeps speaking about the sights he’s been seeing during his travels for work, to which I have replied there are many day or short weekend trips we could take around N Texas to see & do some things! Hope springs eternal & all that)

My friends were all urging me to come on the campout, so I figured I could ask Dr W & let him be the deciding factor - when he asserted that he could work for me, all seemed well. Then the ominous weather forecast started piling up like thunder clouds: my fair-weather riders canceled! My Trail Husband Sam & I wound up hauling to LBJ Grasslands for a day ride Friday - I drove through one minor shower going up there & the rest of the day was just fine. The big storms actually didn’t come through until Friday & Saturday nights.

On Thursday I had the lagniappe of having a late lunch with my son when he was in Ennis to service equipment at one of the manufacturing plants; he was taking Monday & Tuesday off for his birthday (must be nice! I never had the luxury of taking a day off for my BD!?!) & he & his bride would be celebrating with another mini-weekend trip to Vegas. But then Friday evening, I fielded a disturbing series of phone calls - there was trouble in paradise. Z was in tears by the time we finished talking, but he declined my offer to come over - V was due home from work soon. Obviously they settled their differences since they boarded their flight to LAS Sat morning. V sent me a couple of photos last night, apparently Z pulled a few winning slots! Let us hope he is as lucky in the marital lottery...

Here's my friend Jonni's lush green photo of the Red Trail at the Grasslands which she took last Wed. If only I could stay out in the woods & avoid the travails of civilization! Gotta get on with my workday so I will suspend my whinging for now...

A Tour of Bristol

 “One name - many meanings”

An annoying husband-habit which dear Peran has worn completely out is wryly answering “E Texas!” when folks ask about his charming accent. Bristol is our tiny unincorporated settlement as well as a prominent industrial center & port in the UK. (It annoys me bcz P is telling a little white lie, implying he’s from Bristol when he’s actually a Cornishman, but why should I care if he’s impugning his homeland?!? It’s like a Texan looking down her nose at a Californian…)

The middle schooler in me is amused that Bristol is also the name of the human fecal chart, a diagnostic tool to figure out your bowel problems. My body more & more is insisting on better treatment (dietary-wise), as I think over this past week I’ve experienced the whole spectrum: from mild constipation over the weekend (I did not want to have to sneak off into the woods when we were out on trail, setting up our judging checkpoints for the riders), to a couple of oscillations of diarrhea, bloating, & indigestion. Ugh!

I know last weekend I ate too many carbs & too much of it thanks to our excellent camp cook. Alanna made chicken enchilada casserole Fri night & lasagne Sat night. I feared that dear little Tina Fea was gonna rupture herself eating so much - I had to limit her since she did make herself sick on some rice w/onion gravy from a new recipe I tried 2 wks ago (the flavors were great, but next time I need to find a more tender yet economical cut of beef - brisket was not the correct choice!) 

Heading into week 3 of PT for my back - I have not been terribly consistent on doing my exercises, but they seem to be helping. More concerning is my ongoing shortness of breath - I started using a new inhaler (Breztri) but can’t really tell much improvement (yet?). It is what it is - the dull realization has dawned on me that I’m just gonna have to manage, the cavalry’s not coming over the hill! It was discouraging when even MD-effing-Anderson had no good answers for me: “see ya in 6 mos” - yet I’ll won’t even have my co-pays paid off by then, so they will get to see me next year… Complicated by a little toxic nostalgia - Monday would’ve marked my 41st wedding anniversary if I had stayed married to H1. What a maroon I’d have been if that had happened! And Mijo’s 28th BD is coming up June 9 hopefully I will get to celebrate with him, but that old canard “A son is a son till he takes a wife” is absolute FACT. I refuse to be that overbearing, intrusive MIL, so I just text him interesting links to this & that, while waiting for him to call me. I know what William Shatner would say: GET A LIFE!!!

I need to line up my big photo dump, that gives me something nice to look back upon…

https://www.facebook.com/reel/2044138569645280/?fs=e&fs=e

If this links works, it shows one of our obstacles negotiated by riders last weekend.

Dopamine Reset

 Aka “A New Hope” (Episode XXIV)

Just returned from my beautiful mini-campout weekend at our new Palo Pinto Mountains State Park - a project which has been 15 yrs in the works… My dear deceased colleague Dr Gail Conway helped with some of the initial trailblazing, & words are inadequate to describe how beautifully it turned out! (Yes, I will certainly have to transfer a few pictures as technology allows)

There was no cell phone service except in certain areas of the park - I enjoyed this mini-dopamine reset; in some ways it was very refreshing, but I had some minor anxiety about being out of touch. Peran had sliced off the pad of his R thumb on Thursday - I stitched it back on, but had my concerns about devitalization & infection! He had taken a box cutter to a stubborn box of laundry detergent - I heard him exclaim “Shit!” but nothing else; I followed him after he had proceeded rapidly to the bathroom, trailing blood. Fun times!

(I offered him the option of going to urgent care vs having me stitch it back on - there will likely be devitalization across the tip, but at least the skin is providing its own support during the healing process)

I didn’t see anything else I could do for P therapeutically, so I carried on with my campout plans: drove about 3 hrs W of the DF-Dub, set myself up in the pristine brand-new campground, & enjoyed 2 d of riding & hanging out w/4 of my girlfriends. (It wasn’t that husbands weren’t allowed; just none of ours opted to come!)

We rode almost 19 miles over Saturday & Sunday - the trails were awesome; Sharon termed them “mini-Colorado” which was apt as we wound our way amongst the jumbled boulders. Of course, our climbs were relatively mild but I was still thankful to be horseback vs afoot! We left roughly 11 more miles of trail unexplored - obviously that can be our next mission. “I cain’t hardly wait!”

Advantages

 I do try to remain cognizant of the fact that I’ve lived a privileged life with many advantages which I have undoubtedly often overlooked in favor of my more typical mode of communication: the bitch, moan & gripe!

I was hanging out Saturday with my oldest friend Toni - not my oldest friend in age, just my longest enduring connection! - we grew up together, meeting in our close-knit suburban neighborhood at age 5. She was the youngest of 4 daughters whose parents divorced - her mother had a rough time of things. Toni & her sister Cathy hung out at my house a lot; there was a small age gap between them & their 2 older sisters - besides, who wanted to hang out with us bratty little kids? 

We were inseparable through 6th grade; we grew apart when my mom transferred me to Catholic school - I continued my middle school education in St Cecilia’s while Toni continued on in the Dallas public school system (Stockard Jr High, nicknamed “Stockyard”, & Kimball High School) Toni married straight out of high school, being unceremoniously booted out of the nest & had her first child before she turned 20. Her first husband turned out to be a drunken, cheating low life (he even hit on ME when I visited!) so once again, we drifted apart when I became enmeshed in the grind of pre-vet & veterinary studies. Toni divorced Randy, remarried truck driver Rick & bore him 3 more children. She worked as a teaching assistant at a Red Oak elementary school for 25 yrs, taking early retirement 2 yrs ago after being widowed in 2013. Then we were able to get our party started again!

(What takes me so long to assemble one of my historical posts is obsessive date & fact-checking! I couldn’t remember whether Rick passed away in ‘13 or ‘15 but I wanted to get it right!)

Toni’s middle son is going through Baby Mama Drama (of course I’m only hearing Toni‘s version of events, but some of her behavior sounds pretty wild & unhinged! I’ve tried to offer good advice - J was unable to hire my ex’s shark of an attorney since the ol’ bitch retired, but he hired her husband who is hopefully cut from similar cloth), so one silver lining of early retirement is that Toni has been able to help him with childcare of his two young ‘uns. This cuts into our shopping & lunch times but I should be economizing anyway…

Toni remarked wistfully as we drove back from visiting my mom last weekend - “You grew up in a house full of love!” & I replied yes, that was true for the most part but it certainly wasn’t all sweetness & light. My mom was deeply insecure - her misgivings being partially grounded in facts as Dad did cheat on her in the early days of their marriage. He remained a flirt with a boisterous personality, their theme song being that immortal classic “Good Hearted Woman” by Waylon & Willie. I really found no evidence that Dad ran around throughout my teenage years or young adulthood - then I jumped up & married Michael at the ripe ol’ age of 21, so I then had my own problems to worry about!

                                     "Good Hearted Woman"

She's a good-hearted woman in love with a good-timin' man
She loves him in spite of his wicked ways
She don't understand
Through teardrops and laughter,
They'll pass through this world hand in hand,
She's a good-hearted woman loving a good-timin' man.

Well, a long time forgotten
Dreams have just fell by the way
And the good life he promised
Ain't what she's living today
But she never complains of the bad times
Or bad things he's done
She just talks about the good times they've had
And all the good times to come.

She's a good-hearted woman in love with a good-timin' man
She loves him in spite of his wicked ways
She don't understand
Through teardrops and laughter,
They'll pass through this world hand in hand,
She's a good-hearted woman loving a good-timin' man.

He likes the bright light, the nite life
And good-timin' friends
When the party's all over
She'll welcome him back home again
She don't understand him,
But she does the best that she can
This good-hearted woman
Lovin' a good-timin' man.

She's a good-hearted woman in love with a good-timin' man
She loves me in spite of my wicked ways
She don't understand
Through teardrops and laughter,
They'll pass through this world hand in hand,
She's a good-hearted woman loving a good-timin' man.
She's a good-hearted woman loving a good-timin' man.

Bell Wether

(Seems an apt description for someone trying to steer a friend in the right direction while mostly being ignored - alternative title: “Those Were the Days”)

I met KM at one of my Saddlebag rides “back in the day” (early 90’s): B.Z. & B.C. (Before Zach & before I owned the clinic) I actually had Thursdays OFF, free to do as I wanted - so of course what I wanted to do was go ride with my friends! The Saddlebags were a riding group who rotated between different sites in Kaufman County for the most part - a bit of a drive for me but well worth it for the camaraderie…

I learned that Karen lived in Red Oak (much closer to me), so we started riding together at other times & of course I introduced her to endurance riding. When we first met, she was riding a tall, leggy Appendix QH mare named Lucky but she soon went out & bought herself an Arabian for the long-distance rides. Both of us were childless at the time, so we racked up quite a bit of mileage in competition as well as pleasure rides…

At any rate, the years have passed, we’ve both built our families & rarely get the opportunity to ride together anymore. Karen gave up endurance riding after she had her first child, but acquired several more horses & ponies as her own “primaries” aged out & her family expanded. While I’ve maintained an overflowing barn between my competitors, rescues & prospects…

About 10 yrs ago, Karen bought a mare & her 4-yr old colt in a pseudo-“rescue” scenario - I’m sorry, but when good amount of money changes hands, I consider that a slick deal vs a “rescue” (she only “rescued” that lady’s bank account). I gripped my forehead when I saw this pair, as they both were splay-footed, walking conformational nightmares - I wouldn’t have taken them on a bet! The mare had colicky symptoms almost every time she was worked so she was soon “retired”, Karen couldn’t afford to invest in a workup, & the poor creature finally dropped dead - sparing Karen the expense of euthanasia but not that of burial (of course she was her teenage daughter’s favorite; just a bad scene all the way round!)

So now Karen is left with Chrome (the colt) - at 14 yrs of age, he should have long ago outgrown gaited horse “clumsiness”. I am convinced he has some sort of neurologic condition - whether that is “Wobbler’s”, which is set of deformities affecting the cervical vertebrae (a birth defect which gets worse as they age), or EPM, a parasitic disease that attacks the brain & spinal cord - we may never know bcz there again, Karen cannot or will not invest in a workup. Believe me, I get it! - horses are an expensive hobby, just in routine maintenance alone. But I also can tell you right now if one of mine is lame (I’m looking at you, Scarlett & Kizzy!), they will either be retired permanently as pasture ornaments or euthanized in the case of dear Moonie, who became unbearably crippled.

It scares me to death to see Karen ride Chrome bcz he will stumble on flat level ground - it’s a good thing she never wants to go faster than a walk these days… It’s been almost 2 yrs since she went on one of our big group trail rides in East Texas where I was seriously worried if she was going to get him out of the woods safely. Of course Karen defends her choice by saying he’s her “favorite” but to me it’s nerve-racking! I realize it’s 100% her choice but I’m not going to facilitate it - we can have our future meet-ups at a restaurant or other social occasion. Maybe that’s harsh of me, but to me it’s looking more & more like a case of “play stupid games - win stupid prizes”. Equestrian sports are risky enough, even with a horse who’s 100% sound.