Care Bear

I have a 10 lb cat with 100 lbs of attitude and a 100 lb dog with 10 tons of snuggle power.  My dog Bear looks intimidating enough to any troublemakers in my neighborhood, but the running joke has always been if anyone were to break into my house with a cheeseburger, I’d be a goner.  Bear has stepped it up in the security department though.  Aside from one incident when he was baited with a bunny on one of our walks (or drags, as that one turned out), he’s proving everyone right who ever said “oh they just know”.  He’s been much more vigilant at night and wakes right up when he hears something in the driveway. 

I have spent the last several nights at my parents’ house, which I highly recommend to anyone not feeling well (clarification: your parents’ house, my parents have their hands full) and of course Bear came along.  What a deal, they get to cater to my every whim, AND they get to take care of my dog!  Every morning my dad lets Bear out so I can sleep more, or at least he tries.  He’ll open the door and Bear just won’t leave my side.  We’ll try all kinds of exciting dog things, like “Bear!  Come!  Let’s go potty!  Bear?  Come!  Bear, let’s go for a walk!  Come on Bear, it’s okay.  Wanna go outside?  Treat, Bear?” and he looks so torn for all of thirty seconds while he walks towards the door, then runs back to my bed, then hesitates, then walks towards the door again.  He had to almost be dragged outside the first day, and what dog doesn’t want to pee on new bushes?  I think he’s figuring out that routine still, and that when he runs back up the stairs afterwards, I’m still here.  With my dad being the one to walk him and feed him the last few days, I think Bear’s loyalties might be waning slightly.  He now worries when my dad leaves, and gives him furious tail wags when he comes back.  Traitor. 

So yes, this week hasn’t turned out to be the glorious off week I was hoping for.  It was bad enough that I didn’t realize I had caught a cold last weekend until yesterday.  I’m not sure if that’s good or bad; the ignorance probably saved me from something new to whine about.  And it turns out that white blood cell boosting shot is paaaainnnfulll.  I spent Wednesday feeling like I was standing with my back to one of those tennis ball launching machines and was just getting pounded in my backside.  I assume that means the shot was working.  I also got some new drugs; one being a patch to keep me from vomiting, and a syrup to stimulate my appetite. As I was walking to the counter at the drugstore I heard one pharmacist exclaim to the other “Oh GAWD, it smells like Pine Sol!”  Sure enough.  That was my prescription. The patch is working so well I have forgotten to take the pills in addition (like I’m supposed to), and the syrup is inducing all kinds of late night snacking.  Cancer might not turn me into a size 6 now, but keeping food down is much more of an accomplishment lately. 

I should also mention that I really don’t mind throwing up if I have to.  I’d prefer not to do it in public, but don’t feel awful for me because I’ve upchucked a few times.  I think I’ve thrown up a little more than most patients might, but the rest I get afterwards beats the hours of feeling bad beforehand.  Who knows though, with this little patch behind my ear and my non toxic Pine Sol my life as a bulimic may be a thing of the past.  Again, sorry size 6 me. 

I measure how well I’m feeling by my willingness to sing in the car.  This morning on the way to work I sang I Won’t Back Down by Tom Petty, and I was singing at my cancer.