Bella.

A stray kitten found me today in the parking lot.

I was going into the office to pick up a package and she ran up to me, all soaked, and rubbed on my leg and meowed at me. I told her "No baby", and gently pushed her out of the way.

The lady in the apartment office, who I hadn't seen before, was there, and she said "Oh God, is that kitten out there again?" We talked about it for a while and it seems some asshole dropped her off there and she's been around for a couple of months. The lady said "When I did inspections last week someone in the A building had felt sorry for her and let her in. You should take her!" I said "I am already at my fill of pets" (actually, Cole is already one over - ha) and she said "Who cares! I won't tell the owners! We never had this conversation. Just take her, please! I'm so afraid she will get hit by a car! I can't take her because my husband's allergic."

So yeah. I picked her up and she headbutted me and I said, "Hi, Bella." Her name just came out. I took her inside, dried her off, and she bonded with the dog instantly. Dharma is hella pissed off, hissed at her once and is pouting next to the Christmas tree. She and Cole checked each other out, got nose to nose, and then had a mini brawl, but not too bad considering.

She is absolutely gorgeous. Her fur is all matted underneath, I can't imagine how pretty she will be when I clean her up. She's grey tabby, long haired, with pretty greeny yellow eyes. She reminds me of my Cleo, who I had to put down a couple of years ago. I saw her face and I couldn't resist. She picked me, just like Cleo did. I went looking for Dharma and Cole and Dalai... the ones that pick you are somehow different. I can tell by looking at her teeth she's probably about 5-6 months old. She's very petite, and underweight under all her fur. She is absolutely the sweetest, most affectionate thing. It's like she's thanking me...

I'm going to drop her off at the vet tomorrow to make sure she's okay, and not pregnant. She's old enough to be pregnant. I'll have her shots done, and make an appointment to have her spayed.

Now she needs a middle name, or maybe eight like Cole. Wanna Help? Queen Isabella ?? ??? ????

I'm a little apprehensive because we are pretty much maxed out on animals, but what else could I do? She picked me. And I don't know anyone that wants a gorgeous little kitty.

Hurry up!

I'm getting really frustrated - the VA has to give the green light for Hospice and like everything else they are taking their sweet ass time...

My dad is now coughing up blood with the phlegm, I'm sure this feels awful, I want someone to give him some drugs already. Plus, I think if I talk to Hospice at length I will feel better, knowing what will happen and what I need to do, and what I should do. He was sleeping at 8 ish when I called. This never happens.

I'm walking that line of wanting to know what's going on and wanting to stick my fingers in my ears and say "LA LA LAAAA" until it's over.

Deanna called me at work, and that was pretty much a brief dose of therapy (thank you for that) as she's been through all of this with her Grandma, so she gets how weird it is to watch a demented person die and all the jacked up decisions that need to be made. She says I need to tell him that it's ok to pass on. I don't know why I don't want to do this. Probably because every time I think about it I cry. And I don't know if he believes in God. And I don't want to make him freak out about dying. And I don't know if he even knows who I am.

I did get caught up in work, which is a miracle, I never thought it would happen this week. Throwing myself into that has been a good distraction. I sense a whole lot of reading in my future.

Better?

So the old man is more stubborn than I thought. Ha ha.

He has lost every ability EXCEPT the wandering. Oh how lucky for the caregivers. LOL. Totally incontinent, can't communicate, tries to eat weird things, doesn't want to eat food etc.

Last night he had a 102 fever after 2 extra strength Tylenol. I slept about three hours last night (i think Dave slept about 4 1/2 - he's my champion partner in crime) and am destroyed. We went over this morning. He had no idea who I was and spent the majority of his time picking his nose and picking at the hem on his jeans.

As of 10:30 am he didn't have a fever. He wouldn't cooperate and let them listen to his lungs, so they don't know if his breathing is better or worse. Then they asked him some questions and he actually responded - he actually ANSWERED one. I guess they call this "rallying". Sometimes that happens, I guess, it's the last bit of fight in them.

The nurse is supposed to check in on him once again tonight. Even if he does fight off this bout of pneumonia it will come back, as he is aspirating food and water. He's forgotten how to swallow, and when things go down the wrong pipe they stay there, because the cough reflex is gone. This is a main reason why I don't want to treat it. What's the point? Ok, I get him better for a little while, then what? So he can repeat it? So he can pick his nose and shit himself?

So they are still calling in hospice. They asked the VA for authorization today. The caregiver (whom I consider an expert) says it's not immediate pending death, it's weeks or months left. The monthly rate for him now is $4800. Ouch. Who knows if there will be money left, I guess it depends how long he hangs on for.

I have an appointment at a local funeral home on Monday after work. I'm still fighting with Florida funeral home to get the funds back, but I figure I better pay now in case he does pass and then his funds are frozen.

I'm to the point now where I hope this is it for him, so to speak, because he's been suffering enough, and I feel in my gut that he's ready to go. The selfish part of me wants it over quickly too, so I can deal with it and move on.

It's weird, I went from sobbing about it to thinking all these weird selfish things, like I hope it's over soon, I wonder if there will be money left to pay off student loans, etc. Dave says I'm just obsessing over details as a way of coping. I don't know. I have never felt more exhausted in my entire life. Everyone is out in the kitchen carving pumpkins and I just don't think I can do that right now. I'm just waiting for the next phone call from the nurse.

Pneumonia.

My dad has pneumonia. 102 fever, sudden.
I'm not treating it. It's up to God now.
I'm going over there tomorrow to see him. It's been over a month.
I am feeling a tremendous amount of guilt. But sending him to the hospital to be poked and prodded isn't going to help him.

Woot!

So... my new job is officially going to rule.

The HR girl is my new best friend, as I commented on her Michael Kors bag, we talked purses for like 1/2 hour. She then let me know that I was one of over 300 applicants, and asked me if I'd cruise the mall with her on lunch sometime. Hahaha!!! She's rad, she had on lots of bling and she told me how she likes to change her hair all the time - she has a bunch of wigs she rotates to match her outfits. She told me I am the same age as her daughter. hahaha

There are lots of 30ish people there, which is awesome - and I asked about tattoos and no problem - a few people have piercings and funky hair, just all professional clothing, which I dig on dressing up anyway.

The girl that gave me the tour started whispering outside the CEO's office, pointing him out to me. His assistant whispered we could go in. His door was open and everything. She was all timid, "Excuse me, don't mean to bother you, uh, this is Sara, our new Print Coordinator." I marched over to him, stuck out my hand and introduced myself and he welcomed me etc etc. We had a brief convo. The two ladies looked like they were going to shit bricks. I don't understand why people get all weird about bosses. I don't get intimidated by people, everyone is the same to me. I would treat the janitor with the same respect.

I overheard her telling another VP after I cracked a joke "Sara is going to fit in great. And she's definitely not shy." No kidding. LMAO

Yeah... so it kicks the ass of my old job. Talk about movin' on up in the world. The girl who is vacating my job only had it for a year. So things are looking very very good for yours truly.

Moving on.

Got the job. Coulda had both jobs. But got offered the one I wanted just after 5 today. I'll take a 10K a year raise, less commute, NO CRAZY DRAMA, an office without everyone's stupid CRAP and life coming FULL CIRCLE.

Let me explain.

When I was 23 and obviously temporarily retarded, I got engaged to the moron known as my ex-husband. I had a really good job as a Marketing Assistant for a foodservice brokerage and marketing group. Moron complained and bitched and moaned that I would have to TRAVEL (like twice a year) and basically manipulated me into quitting my job and I was stupid enough to fall for it.

I loved that job, and it was the most money I ever made, and as soon as I realized what I had done I felt like the hugest dumbass ever. And I was damn good at it too.

When I went back to work in an office I ended up temping for an insurance place and that's how I got stuck in insurance hell for these last 8 or so years.

Well, that job was the most money I ever made. Until NOW. And this is starting wage!

I feel like I am back on track. I feel like I've got myself back, on every level.

The philosophy there is you have to work hard, have a good sense of humor, and while education is helpful it isn't everything. I only have my AA, and they mentioned "Oh you have an AA" and asked if I wanted to go further, and I mentioned I wasn't sure. They discussed that they had tuition reimbursement, yet the VP of Marketing said "At Papa Murphy's we look at who you are, what you do, and not your fancy degrees. Our CFO doesn't even have a Bachelor's."

The one thing I've beaten myself up for screwing up is fucking around and not getting more school. And it doesn't matter here. I can do as well as I want to, and I'm so completely relieved. I feel set free right now. It was so time for me to move on.

Now giving notice is another issue. Not looking forward to it... ugh.

VA=CRAP.

Yesterday was the day from hell.

Dad had his annual VA physical, I took him. We got the wheelchair van to pick us up, which was a relief, as I had to make about a dozen phone calls to have him hooked up with that Service. It was next to impossible to get him into my little Hyundai. The primary care doctor is an asshole, no other word for it. We've tangled a few times.

So he's shocked at the condition dad is in since last year, asks me what's new, I tell him that he's up most of the night, incontinent etc all the typical dementia stuff. First he infers that maybe the home I have him in isn't adequate. Uh, no, I explain that they are great. He latches on to this incontinence thing (which has been a natural progression from occasionally to constantly, it's not like it just showed up overnight) and he says it could be prostate issues, which is easily treatable with meds. I'm cool with that treatment. Asks if he can do a quick bladder scan. I agree, am in the room with dad, talking to him while it's happening, it's quick and non-invasive. He's confused but he gets through it ok.

That comes back and he says he wants to do a quick rectal exam to make sure it's not the prostate. I hesitate, say I don't know if he can handle it, he says some BS like "oh, it will be fine."
I leave the room at this point for some privacy, then come back in, doc says prostate is fine. Says it could be a bladder infection causing the incontinence and he wants him to see a urologist.

I point out he has no other signs of bladder infection (like fever, abdominal pain), and if it is a bladder infection we are not going to treat it anyway. At this point he's absolutely horrified and says "You mean you are willing to let him die over a bladder infection?" I say "Yes, because that's what he wanted. Look at his DNR order. It says quality of life meds only." "Well a bladder infection causing incontinence is a quality of life issue." "The caregiver reports that he isn't even aware when he's being changed for the most part." My dad is nodding off in his wheelchair at this point. So we go back and forth and he puts through a referral to urology anyway. I tell him I'm not taking him. He essentially ignores me and is really rude at this point, infers I'm basically going to kill my dad, or I want to kill my dad. I get my dad out of there as fast as I can. He is very agitated at this point.

The thing also is about 2 years ago the neurologist (who I like) showed me his brain scans, and there was so little healthy brain material left, he was amazed how well he was doing, so it seems that that string essentially broke and his condition is matching the scans now. This isn't surprising. It's sad, but not surprising at all.

The second we get back to the home he loses it and starts crying, he's saying a bunch of stuff I can't understand, then he starts asking for pills, for ALL the pills and says "I'm dead… I am just dead…can't do anything anymore…I'm dead… I'll sign…" so basically he was begging me to give him all the pills so he could off himself. I told him I was sorry but I couldn't do that. I basically bailed at that point, because then I was crying, and the caregivers took over, and I told him I'd see him this weekend.

The main caregiver, who has become a friend of mine, asks me what the hell happened, I told her, and obviously even being poked/prodded that much set him off, as he's been very docile and happy for the last month or so. We both agreed Dr. Asshole should witness what we just did and then he could tell me that treating a bladder infection was quality of life.

When I get the letter about the urology appointment in the mail I'm canceling it, asking to talk to a social worker, and complaining about that idiot doctor. I had already put in for a change of provider but it's about 6 more months on the waiting list. I hate the VA.

I just completely lost it last night. I haven't cried like that in years. I don't think Dave knew what to do with me. I don't want to kill my dad. I hate that doctor for how he made me feel. I don't want my dad to die. But he is going to die. He is already dying, slowly. And who the hell am I to refuse let a natural process happen, when it's what he's wanted, and has vocalized many times before he couldn't communicate? Today I'm totally just wiped out, like I'm in a haze, and I'm on autopilot. I was happy to go to work. I just wanted something "normal" to happen today.

I am going to do my damndest to keep him out of as many doctor appointments as possible.