goodby

Yesterday was the worst day of my life, even worse than anything else that has happened.  I hesitate to even write about this because not everyone can connect with my feelings for CoolCat.  He has not been well since the other life.  It was not pain, although some discomfort or pain could have been part of his decline; my vet and I never saw any evidence of that.

Yesterday CoolCat did what I had asked and hoped that he would do, and that was to let me know when it was time to say goodbye.  We spent most of the day together, and in middle afternoon, we let him go.  I have been in welfare work for nearly half my life, accustomed to every person & animal issue and circumstance imaginable, but when it was time to follow through on my promise to always do the best for him, to pay attention to his spoken and unspoken needs, and to embrace euthanasia as the final and loving gift that I could offer, I experienced everything that any pet owner does on that last visit to the clinic.

I have had the same veterinarians for forty years, so making that call yesterday was fine from the time that B answered the phone there.  There is B and L and a few other old babes like me that have been there since our first appointment when we moved here.  In many ways it like an extension of family, the kind of family you actually like and who do not drive you insane or stupid.  Chosen family, hand-picked for wisdom and beauty and love.  I cannot count the many times we met outside the clinic, worked on animal-related projects, fundraisers and educational programs and events.  There was a time when they wanted to offer me a job there, but I knew that being there several days each week was not a good fit for me and my schedule. 

When I would appear without an appointment, someone would welcome me by saying, "Are you hungry?"  That meant there was an excellent chance that I came to buy food for our cats and/or dogs.  Sometimes I would be driving past and if I had a little extra time, I would stop to simply say hello and chat if they were not busy, although anything, any work involving pets and their people is never without tons of stuff on which you are constantly trying to manage.  When I was clearing the house last year in preparation for selling, B stopped by to just talk.  I left the house and rummage sale to my daughter and friends and the two of us went out to the road, leaned on her car and talked about the whole messy issue, but about other things as well, something I really needed to do.  I needed to disconnect from that mess and she knew it and took me there.

Saying goodbye to anyone we love is never easy.  It seems disrespectful of the process to even try to define just how difficult it is.  For someone like me, CoolCat was the familiar, the constant presence in my life.  He and my daughter are the only connection to the other life that was worth bringing along to my new life.

After CoolCat was gone, I took his body out to my friend G's, where he will be cremated and honored alongside L who died last year.  I filled the rest of the afternoon with errands that could have waited, with shopping that probably should not have been delayed, so I was just so grateful for reasons to not come home alone.  When home, I realized how much of the activity here revolves around him.  Welcomes.  Checking dishes to refresh food and water.  Sitting and sharing our day.  Some play, relaxing for both of us.  Laughing and petting and just grooving together until I could get it together enough to rustle up some dinner.

Dinner.  Meals of any kinds.  If it was healthy for a cat to eat, CoolCat got his share.  Asparagus, watermelon and cantaloupe, bits of beef/chicken/turkey, and any kind of greens.  He loved everything from iceberg lettuce, to spinach, to collards, chards and kale.  I think the only greens he did not like were mustard and beet tops.  Oh, he also loved, like insanely loved the leaves and silk of fresh corn, which he did not get because I discovered he loved them after he had snagged some from the trash and vomited the whole mess up.  Poor guy, to love something so much and have it not be good for you.  I guess many of us can relate in regards to liking or loving something or someone that is not in our best interest. 

I could not fall asleep, not unusual for me, and when I finally went to bed to read there was some of his bunny-soft white fur on the edge of the brown sheet.  I left it.  It is still there, just like his dishes and litter box are going to stay exactly where they are for a while.  Probably just a few days, sooner for the litter box though, I guess. 

There were two times that I felt some movement on the mattress, and I looked up both times, expecting to see him walking towards me.  He was light as a feather when he jumped up on something, so I never knew he was on his way to cuddle until I felt his little feet displacing the sheets, pressing into the bed.  When it happened the first time I forgot that he was dead and had a moment of confusion.  The second time was almost immediately, as I was looking for him.  My best guess is that it was some kind of muscle memory on  my part, because, like many cats, bedtime was highly ritualized for him.  My brain and my legs expected the usual sensations.

Now life goes on without him, save for all of the wonderful, heartfelt and often hilarious memories that I carry.  We had an excellent relationship, even though I will always feel that I caused their hardship, CoolCat and L, during the time I was in hiding last year.  My ex lavished love and attention and gifts on our cats and I never dreamed that he would neglect them.  Nothing I can do about any of that now, so I have done my best to release that sadness.  I shared a really great life with him this past year and a half.  Together we found ourselves, healed from some of our fears and relaxed into our very own home, governed by our very own rules, of which there are few, and our very own choices and decisions, of which there were too many to count.

I know, without any reservation that CoolCat and I made the right decisions yesterday.  I will always have sorrow about losing him, I will always miss his sweet and complicated presence and comfort myself with all of those memories.

Rest in peace, my dear, sweet boy, my puddin' boy, my Precious.  Thank you for the amazing blessing you have been for me.

 

crat

my.. KeyBoard.. is. .kAPut.. . stupid. big. hot. Trash

empathy

The lack of empathy is such a sad character flaw. 

It has esteemed company.
Sympathy
Understanding
Kindness
Helpfulness
Sacrifice
All that jazz...

The most important of these is on a slightly different plane.  It is courage.

It takes courage to stand against the tide of complying with the dumb stuff held by other people.
It takes courage to stand up for everything you believe in.

It takes courage to overcome your
prejudices
biases
jealousies
pettiness
judgements
unwillingness to put yourself in the shoes/life circumstances of someone else who is different from you.

Today I had a melt-down of epic measure.  I would not say that I am anywhere near feeling pride about standing up, but even though it has lost me several on-line friends, with more to follow I am sure, I have been holding this thing in for a long time because, well, because I wanted friends.  I just lacked the courage to say anything when some of them behaved cruelly, without heart or understanding...or empathy for another person.

Because I wanted people I do not even know in person to like me.  Or, at least not hate me or think me stupid.  Or, something.

So, I snapped on, of all places, Facebook, where I rarely post anything, infrequently reply and really go there to play games.  I like the bubble games.  I like them a lot.  They are useful for maintaining a couple levels of brain function, the least of which is eye to hand coordination. 

If you make it to my age and do not do something every single day to keep your brain all juiced up, calcification of essential parts and their functions will soon, regularly, ruin your day. 

A juiced brain is a good brain, and the Internet is most likely the best thing to ever happen to us old folk.

So, that is why I was there and why I just could not take it any more.  I am ashamed of myself for not speaking up so many times.  Had I done so, those people would have dumped me long ago, but at least I would not be carrying this shame for a while. 

I have no trouble sharing how I feel when someone does something mean or says something stupid, careless and uninformed to another person.  I am not very assertive about it, but I do manage to choke out something supportive.  It is easier to do with strangers, like when the person in line with me at the grocery store...front or back of me...is rude or says something mean to/about the person checking-out the crap we all buy.  Places and circumstances like that do not unduly alarm me into keeping silent.

Friends are different.  They should not be; they just are. 

But, this long-term thing with on-line people just rattles me, upsets me that I am so dependent on these people liking me.  Heck, any people liking me. 

It is really hard, being human.  And, whether or not today's tirade leaves me without any virtual friends, I am glad that I finally pulled up my big girl panties and did the right thing.  I guess now that my game playing will not be interrupted by anyone wanting to say how nice I am.  Well.

nexts

It has been a weird weekend.  I am not sure that I want to do much anymore.  Yeah, I still love my work and the potential, additional opportunities to do more if I pass my state certification, but I am feeling weak.  My body feels weak.

More importantly, my will to keep moving forward, to keep working on my recovery, well, it just is not there.  I should have paid bills and/or studied for my exam next month.  I could have done more organizing.  That last one was the closest to being accomplished.  If I finished that, all of the remaining boxes, baskets and bins would be put away, making this whole place look great.  If everything were put away, it really would be a one-time job, as organized stuff stays organized, or at least the little messes stay in one room.

But, I am not doing that.  I am all energized and interested and I go to that room and look at it and walk away.  The new dishes and bowls are still in their bags and boxes.  I do nothing and I am exhausted.  I nap.  I sit.  I am glad that hot dogs were on sale when I took R shopping last week, or I would not have anything to eat, except chocolate, and that is boring, the chocolate.  I could never have imagined that I would be uninterested in food, especially chocolate.

I do not feel depressed or any increase in my depression, but that must be the reason.  

I wonder how I can be this self aware and still not be motivated to do what needs being done. 

So, I will be taking myself to organize some more.  It will be wonderful to have that space in which to work, mess around and play with the boys.

Okey-dokey...here I go...

what matters

Another 4:00 a.m. finds me still up and playing games and reading health and science stuff and trying to avoid reading any news.  I used to read a couple of newspapers each day and watch all of the news programs.  In retrospect, I think that all of that news frenzy/need/obsession and reading so many books were a way to try to make sense of my stupid life. 

When Andrew Weil's book, 8 Weeks to Optimum Health, was published, one of my sisters-in-law asked me to read along with her and incorporate the book's practices into our lives because her cancer had returned.  It is a decent book and the primary idea I have retained is that watching news programs and reading newspapers (and, it occurs to me that on-line news might be even more insidious) does nothing to improve the quality of one's life.

I probably should be more informed about lots of things, but Weil was right; avoiding news over which I have no control and for which I am unable to offer any assistance or influence is overwhelming and painful and depressing and I no longer read newspapers, and rarely watch any televised news.  I am able to pull in only a handful of television stations anyway, but because the TV is on often it is inevitable that I do hear news.  Except for these early morning hours when all that is on are infomercials and preachers and some loud guy in a purple shirt who is yelling stuff about money.  That is fine.  A little news cannot hurt much.  Besides, I have listen to public radio and one local talk station in the car, so I still hear about some things, and I can depend on my friends to talk about what they know of what is happening in the world. 

What was this about, though?  Oh, yeah.  Cannot sleep and some weird things that have come to me via the news.

So, anyway, I have the TV on and the evening, nearly bedtime, news is on and that man who was just tried for leaking military secrets will be spending the better part of his life in prison and has decided that as long as he is going to be stuck there that he might as well live the life he has always wanted, which is to change his name, live as a female and have the government, i.e. taxpayers, pay for hormone treatments. 

I have a couple of friends who define themselves as transgendered, so I am familiar with the needs of someone who moves through our lives with challenges caused by the stigma of discrimination, misunderstanding and a varied menu of biases and prejudices.

Even though I know very little about the entire issue concerning this man and what he did, as well as the more recent happenings, and even though my first impulse and thoughts are to be supportive of anyone who faces the kinds of life challenges that he must have been experiencing for most of his life, I am sort of conflicted about who should pay for non-essential medical care for someone who is incarcerated for any reason(s).

And, it is not that I think that because this is about gender issues, but I work with people who lack access to basic and life-saving health care and services, and no one is championing their circumstances, or trying to make sure that everyone can receive the medical care all of us deserve.  This is especially concerning to me because all I hear from my self-proclaimed friends is that health care reform should not happen, just in case it has any negative effect on their current, luxurious and all-encompassing health insurance and plans.

Seriously, not a single one of them lacks a single, tiny, teeny-weeny, inconsequential health benefit.  They can afford and have excellent health insurance plans and excellent and expensive medical resources.  I am not saying that they are spoiled (maybe they are, but it is not for me to judge them in any way) or that they do not care, on any level, about those who have fewer resources than they have, but they are worried silly and scared that if everyone has access to health care that it absolutely must mean that it will result in a serious deficit in what they can have.

They were talking about it when I joined them for coffee this past Saturday morning, and even though we have had this conversation a million times, one of them asked me how I was going to cope when our nation's health care system was ruined by providing services to poor people.  Her words, not mine. 

And, I am sitting there thinking, crap, did you guys just meet me for crying out loud?  Have we not had this conversation a million times already?  Have you not asked me for my opinion about this a million times already?  Do you not...seriously...recall that I say pretty much the same thing, that I am willing to make personal sacrifices and have it cost me more money if everyone had the opportunity to basic health care, both preventative and critical?  Seriously?

So, I said what I always say and I am nice and do not yell or make frowny faces or anything, but I feel such energy about this and, frankly, it is starting to really piss me off.  And, I am sorry and I certainly will not say this to them or anyone insensitive enough to espouse that kind of selfish stupidity around me, but the haves certainly have no, as a group or as a philosophy-focal herd, made much progress in the direction of thinking of, much less doing anything proactive or even supportive, for the have-nots.  Sheesh, scratch one of those particular haves and you expose beliefs that are still back in the period when we first began to walk upright, when it probably was essential to make sure that you protected your resources so that you could survive, and if that meant that someone else did not survive because you would not share, well, that was it.

I used to have better health insurance coverage than I do now.  My ex had excellent health care coverage and used it extensively.  He was not so glad to have me use it, which is why I was never able to get the mental health care I needed, you know, therapy and meds, or seek more than basic health care.  When I had to have eye/brain surgery for my vision disorder, he was less than enthusiastic, just as he was when our daughter needed a partly-elective surgery when she was a teenager.  He got the best, we got the scraps, and grudgingly at that.

The good part of that is developing the ability to find and use alternative health practices.  I am a fairly frugal person and, actually, quite happy to be so.  I like living with less stuff and love making my own stuff.  I can make or fix just about anything.  Not engines in cars, but I can do regular maintenance.  I can sew and cook from scratch, grow my own food.  Make household stuff and not suffer because I lack some material thing. 

Although, I have to admit that I miss my kiln and loom, my easel, things like that.  I would love to be able to not worry about the grocery and utilities parts of my budget.  That would be so nice.  I would love to have a better telephone plan, maybe some new and fancy underwear would be cool.  But, you know, if I had to trade any part of my new life for some extra money, huh, what would I do?  I have thought about this aspect of my life, and I am mostly certain that I would turn down more money if it meant that I had to give up my work or my cozy flat or CoolCat or just the gloriousness of being able to make my own decisions and choices and mistakes.  Not to mention being able to follow my body on a night like this, where sleep does not come and I can sit up, read, play on the computer, study for September's exam, have some tea and a snack and there is not a single person here who can stop me from doing what I want, what I need to do, what pleases me. 

So, I get to be a little ferocious with my friends, or maybe just benignly assertive, about my beliefs.  They are going to believe and practice what they want, just as I can.  I am still stuck on how I can totally support health care for cancer and other diseases, conditions and disorders, most especially mental health care circumstances, for people who are in prison, but I am waffling on what should be an equal health care concern like gender identity. 

It feels like if you scratch me, financially challenged and still a have, that what is then revealed is something, someone who is not the person I believe myself to be, someone who could shame me. 

I mailed

the registration for state certification.  The nice post office worker ran off a postage label, which immediately postmarks it.  Or, so he said.  Anyway, it is on its way and I will begin studying on the weekend.  I am liking the cozier way that I have arranged the living room and even if it reaches the predicted temperatures, I will be all comfy sitting in the cross-draft of two windows.

Yay.

I passed

the PS certification exam for the national thing.

Yay.

My plan, if I had received a passing score, was to drive to the big city where the application for the state level certification exam needed to be sent.  There is not time to do that now.  So, I called those folk last week to determine what could be done without verifying information from the national training guys.  Got what I needed, which was permission to drive up there, need be.

Being the obsessive control-focal person that I am, I called that office this afternoon, minutes after receiving the great news e-mail. 

Apparently, I am not the only person to call them, and I now have permission to mail everything out today, and today's postmark will be accepted as meeting the deadline, instead of the information I received last week that their office had to receive it by Wednesday, before 4:00 p.m.

It is wonderful that this state agency is willing to help us, the recently-trained, to meet those very strict deadlines in a way that accommodates the kind of scary delay of our exam results.  It is comforting to know that I will be working and aligned with an agency that holds true to its original intent.  I like that so much.

Off to mail my stuff and find a big rug or pad to go under my desk chair.  The present one was old when I moved here last year, and I do not want to mar these lovely wood floors.  A few no-fuss groceries, something that can do for lunch at work and home to do more organizing.  It is already looking like the shelter will be receiving a lot of stuff for their children's program.  I like that, too.  Yay.