Wednesday, June 12, 2013

A 31 Year Old Who Just Got Contacts for the First Time Walks Into a Bar........

I'm that 31 year old.  I didn't get glasses until January of 2008 when Joe and I moved to Dallas.  I honestly didn't realize I had a problem with my vision until we were in the process of moving to Dallas and I noticed I couldn't read any of the street signs and therefore had NO clue where I was going.  That British lady on my navigation system and I were tight for awhile.

After 5 years and having a kid who just loves putting her grubby fingers on my specs, I talked myself into getting contacts and giving them a try.  I stayed away from them for years as I have astigmatism and sometimes it's not the best option for people with my eyeball disability.

Long story short - I get contacts.  The tech at my doctors office was really good at telling me how to put them in and take them out and not to wear them in water.  But there are a few things I was not informed about that I learned really fast:

With astigmatism, your contacts pop out really easily because of the shape of your eyeball.  I have terrible allergies and tend to rub my eyes a more.

Make sure you put your contacts in BEFORE you put on makeup.  Rookie mistake.  Mascara was EVERYWHERE.  EVERYWHERE - looked like a oil spill in my eyes and all over my face.

Don't forget to take them out before bathing/showering.  If Joe had a dollar for everytime I've had to call for him to come get a contact that fell out while I was getting so fresh and so clean clean - he'd be $5 richer.  (Did I mention Baby Joe has been wearing contacts since he was like 13 and gave me no tips whatsoever?  He was suppose to be my Miagi on this thing!)

And here's the big one.  Don't cry with contacts in.  Between the extra moisture and the rubbing it's the Pandora's Box of not being able to keep those suckers in.

This is not a happy story and if you're looking for a pick me up - read no further.  This is a sad story with a not happy ending.

Another long story shortened a tiny bit, Tipsy (Joe's dog turned my dog) is dying.  She is 11 and has had a beautiful wonderful life full of leftovers and sharing a Temperpedic bed with us.

It started a few years ago with a lump that randomly showed up and just never really changed.  So we left it.  Around Christmas this past year it started to get bigger - about the size of a ping pong ball.  So in January we had it surgical removed.  We opted to not have it biopsied and tested for a few different reasons.  The main one being that we didn't want a timetable for how much longer she had.  Even then - Joe and I had a sense that it wasn't good.

Come April this year I'm putting Evelyn to bed one night and look down at Tipsy who was laying at my feet and she was laying just perfect enough to wear I could see another lump has appeared towards the bottom of the last incision site.  I watch it for a week and it just grows and grows.  We go to the vet and have it biopsied.  It's a low grade mast cell tumor.  Which is life expectancy meant if we do nothing - she has 2 years.  By this time the tumor is what I would categorize as "big".  So of course we decide to have it removed.  Mast cell tumors affect the histamines in the skin - much like a bee sting makes you swell.  So we put Tipsy on a high dosage on Benadryl daily hoping to make the tumor shrink so that it's easier to see it's margins during the surgery.  We go to Florida for a week and come back and it's pretty much doubled in size - which then causes problems for removal. 

We go see our local doctor who recommended to go see a specialist in Tulsa to give Tipsy the best chance possible.  So last Friday I load up the old girl in the car and start driving to Tulsa.  And I am tearing up the entire time and quietly sobbing b/c I don't want to upset the dog.  I get to Tulsa and failed to check the mirror before I went in because I was handed a tissue when I walked in the door to get cleaned up.  Another long story short (LSS), the surgeon was very confident he could remove the tumor without any problems and get the margins around it he needed, but first he wanted to do an abdominal ultrasound to make sure it hadn't metasticized.  So I leave Tipsy for surgery and completely lose it.  Big Time.  I cry so hard I give myself a crick in the neck (the type where you can't move your neck!).  I just didn't feel right about leaving her - something in my gut. 

I had the luxury of one of my roomates from college living in Tulsa so I headed to commiserate with her over lunch and catch up (she has a new baby - and I love me some babies!)  And the surgeon calls.  I knew the second it was the surgeon and not the tech that it wasn't good.  LSS - cancer has metasticized.  I could have gone on with the surgery and put her through chemo but that would only buy her 18 months.  So I ask "If we do nothing, how long does she have."  "3-6 months".  He said it back to me so quickly that I was startled and shocked and grieving immediately.  Did I mention I'm driving at the time on 71st?  So I pull over and just let it all out.  The surgeon was so understanding and comforting which kinda made it worse b/c I cried more because of that.  I managed to choke out that I was going to come get Tipsy and take her home and he agreed that was best.  So I'm in a parking lot losing it.  And the damn contacts aren't staying in which kinda makes me laugh/irate/more sad.  Luckily the admissions ladies provided me with ample amounts of tissues which was a lifesaver.

After a quick lunch with Steph I go pick my sweet Princess Tipsy up and we head back home.  And I keep it together pretty good.  Then the sad songs on the radio start and I cry the whole entire way home.  Again - not being able to see out of my right eye at all; not sure what was going on there.  When I get to the house I strip nude and climb in my bathtub thinking that will make everything better.  It didn't.  I just cried more and got too hot in there.  I did have the state of mind to take the contacts out by this time.  Joe and E came home and loved on me which helped but gosh darnit, I was just so sad.

I'm not a crier.  Joe worries because of my lack of emotion.  I've only cried at 3 movies ever:  The English Patient, Message in a Bottle, and Armageddon (my grandfather had just died and the scene was when Bruce puts Ben in the capsule so he will live).  So Joe didn't know what to do, I've only been Tipsy's Mom since she was 4 - but Joe raised her.  I feel like I didn't give him a chance to grieve b/c he was so worried about me. 

Saturday I totally cried in the shower and then got my sh** together and went on with my life.  It's what we have to do.  I'm a quick griever - always have been and I'm already in acceptance mode.  I ease the pain by sneaking Tipsy Oreo's and whatever else I'm eating.  Luckily Tipsy has no outward signs of pain, but I know that can change in an instant.  We're just trying to enjoy her while we can.

In other news - new furniture is being delivered tomorrow and I think I'm ready to debut the new den/kitchen area to yall.  I keep putting it off because it's not completely done.  But yall have waited like a year to see it and you deserve it.  I've been antiquing recently (muahahahaaa!!!) and have some new purchases to share.  And true to self, I started on the living room before I finished anything else in my house.  :)

I'll catch you up soon!  


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