Can this week be over... please?

This week is one I want to purge out of my mind and pretend it never happened (except for what happened to me on Tuesday between 1 and 3 p.m., because it’s going to be helpful).

I’m frustrated because I don’t think I am getting better fast enough. I had a doctor’s appointment on Monday (normal every 4 month liver functions for high cholesterol medication) and when I stepped on the scale, I expected a decent weight loss. I’ve not had much of an appetite since my kidney stone drama started on June 17, and my clothing tell me I’ve lost weight, but the scale said I’d lost only 10 pounds. There are some days I don’t eat at all because I just am not hungry. So my body is in full famine mode, holding onto every ounce it can.

My very dear stepdad drove me to my appointment in Daly City, a 2-½ hour drive. He got me there early, which is always good. Usually. Not that day.

When Jim picked me up at 8:15 a.m. he said there had already been a couple of car wrecks along our route, including in the Bay Area. I didn’t think they’d have any affect on what I was going to have done, but I was wrong! The car accidents pretty much shut down the Peninsula, and the radiology/surgery center noted that one of the doctors was late, as were all of the early appointments. So they were behind an hour or so. My procedure time was supposed to be noon, but I don’t think I got into a room until 1:30 p.m. By that time I am starving.

The procedure went fine. Dr. Palma does as I ask—I want enough drugs to not remember and to have little pain. To that end, they now have a full-blown anesthesiologist or nurse anesthetist keeping patients on the table. All I remember was feeling slightly dizzy with the Versed, then I watched as the milky white Diprivan went into the tubing and into my vein. I remember thinking “Why am I not out?” and then within seconds (so it seemed) I was awake and being asked to scoot of the table and onto a gurney.

This procedure involves sticking electrodes into my back and zapping nerves that run through the facet joints. I asked Dr. Palma to really zap them and he did. This time I had horrible pain in the recovery room, so horrible that it took 4 mg. of Dilaudid and a Toridol injection to get me comfortable enough for the ride home. In a month I’ll be in great shape for winter gardening/cleanup.

So I was not terribly clear in the head and it was the next day when I learned about the going-ons of 9/11/12. Wednesday I scoured the Internet, using the usual sources and of course some definite political ones, to learn about what had happened. Couple that with a photo of a cat disappearing from my wall, and I spent Wednesday crying.

The “cat disappearing from my wall” was a cat in an animal shelter in Baldwin Park. I’d been sharing his photo and pleading—go get this kitty, share this photo. One of the shelter volunteers said his time was almost up. He was a ringer for my little Cammi cat.  So I am assuming the worst and am still so damned sad for the loss of that sweet soul, Bond, who just wanted a home and love of his own. I still get weepy; I look at Cammi and see him. Why can’t people just spay or neuter and be responsible for the cats they are responsible for bringing into the world.

On Wednesday the animal shelter posted a photo of brother and sister kittens who are ringers for my Ryan—tuxrdo, mittens in front, little streaks of white on their foreheads. Now I am worried for them. I promised my deceased kitty Elliott that I’d take care of tuxedo cats like he was. I have only three… that’s not saving very many.

Thursday the pain was increasing rather than decreasing. The pharmacy finally had the right medications, so it took a few hours to get the pain under control. I was still looking for information about 9/11/12, asking myself “how could this happen?” Isn’t 9/11 a high alert day for Americans anyway? Why should it be any different for Americans in Islamic countries? If anything, every day should be high alert there.

I learned that the assassinated ambassador was involved in the so-called Arab Spring, that he loved his post and the people of Libya. I also learned he had been sodomized before he died. Then I started tripping over stories about the president and how he’d skipped security briefings—and yes, he’d skipped the most recent one where 9/11/12 was discussed. I learned there was credible information that something was up. Why weren’t embassy staffs at ALL Islamic nations on high alert? Why weren’t there Marines crawling all over he place—ARMED Marines who were ready, willing and able to take care of problems should they arise!

Thursday evening I was scrounging up something in the kitchen, and four-month-old tuxie kitten Morgan was skittering at my feet. One of the dogs, the “best behaved” one, Stoli, was in the house, too, across the room. At my feet (so at Morgan’s feet, too) there was a rawhide chew toy neither of us noticed. Suddenly the dog dashed across the room, teeth bared, going after the kitten and I for being close to her chew thing. Had I not had the walker, she would have knocked me down and no doubt harmed the kitten. I threw the walker at her to protect the kitten and myself. The dogs are out of control, and I am pretty close to admitting I am in over my head and rehoming both of mine. Four big dogs are too much, and earlier in the week they broke into a neighbor’s yard, chewing up her garden hoses and terrorized her all afternoon. All I’ll be left with are my daughter’s two, and if she hasn’t collected them by Christmas, I’ll rehome or PTS the black one (I cannot rehome her boyfriend’s dog).

So Saturday finally arrived, and as I type this, six Americans have died as a consequence of “unrest” in Islamic countries. Our secretary of state claims those protests aren’t directed at Americans per se, but are a reaction to a film produced on U.S. soil that is critical of their prophet. Please, Madame Secretary. Stop the political correctness and see this for what it is: It was 9/11, Islam’s new traditioinal spit on Americans day.

This afternoon, one of the Facebook groups posted a photo of Black Muslims holding a cross with a “crucified” cat on it. I could not believe what I was seeing, shared it with an anti-Muslim extremist group, and reported the image to Facebook, who refuses to remove the image. It is horrific, and I cried for a good 15 minutes after seeing it. I imagine the poor cat is dead, its paws attached to the horizontal bar of the cross, its abdomen tied to the vertical bar. I have never felt such hate for humans or a group of humans as I did looking at that photo.

This country has had a dearth of leadership for most of my life. Presidents are worried about being politically correct and afraid to offend any one group, even if it is for the good of the majority of Americans. Most of my life I worried we were going to be overrun by Mexicans. That’s no longer the case. We are being overrun by Muslims, who take over a city, install Muslims into city/county government, and then work to establish Sharia law. We have a president who has published the words “I will stand with the Muslims should the political winds shift in an ugly direction.” We should all be very afraid. I believe he is doing just that.

If that poor crucified cat is something acceptable to Islam (or anyone), they deserve to be wiped off the earth. I cannot believe the cruelty, the disregard for life. I know that there are so-called Christians just as evil, and I think they are no better than Islamic extremists. But for now it is plain that our enemies are Islamic nations who have zero respect for the U.S. because we have spineless leaders (starting all the way back to Johnson) who get and keep us in wars where there can be no winner, where the goal was impossible (in this decade, “establishing democracy” in nations where Sharia law is what they want is as far from a democracy as one can get). I do not want any Americans fighting a ground war in this region. Bring our troops home, blow up a few mosques for good measure, pull all foreign aid to Islamic-identifying nations, and protect our own continent. Secure the southern border (I read an article that mentioned that prayer rugs are among the litter left by border hoppers—since when did overwhelmingly Catholic Mexicans start using prayer rugs?), deport students from the Middle East who have overstayed their visas (What what the heck, deport those from any country who have overstayed a student visa) and keep our own nation secure.

I hope our government learns something from the goings-on this week. I hope I soon forget the mental and physical pain and find myself digging in the dirt, getting my roses ready for winter, and being able to somehow learn that I cannot save every animal.