The Blog Tribe and a time of loss

On June 30, 2004, before I'd ever heard of something called Facebook, I finally caved to pressure from my dear friend PatCH and started this blog. From the blog, I shared much of my life--and my life with Marc and our dogs--and I made some amazing friends. More true friends than I ever could have imagined.

It shouldn't have surprised me that I could make such good friends online, since my initial introduction to my best friend--my husband Marc--came on an old online technology called IRC, but still there's some surprise in the volume of dear friends who came into my life through blogging.

I often lament my lack of attention to this blog. Blogging is a far better medium than any of the newer social media, but it also requires a bit more time and thought than a Facebook post. Still, I should give it more attention.

When I think about the friends I've made on here, I'm sometimes reminded of the ones we lost. This week, we mark the passing of Scott Barnes of the blog "Sardonic Bomb", gone suddenly at the age of 50 last weekend. Earlier this year, we also lost Alex. He was only 43. He had a couple of blogs/sites, the main one I followed called "Epicureal Thoughts." Both of them were artists. Scott was a photographer. Alex painted. Both brightened their parts of the world.

The funny thing is, there are members of this blogger tribe I feel close to, even though we never met. These two are good examples. We never got to meet, but Alex's death crushed me. I agonized as he fought for his life, being in intensive care for weeks, only to lose a battle when the damage was more than the doctors could fix. Then we got the news of Scott's sudden death--at least, as Jay explained, he had just finished having fun on a rollercoaster when he died an instantaneous death. Nothing makes death okay, especially at only 50, but at least he didn't suffer.

Although we never met, Scott and I had spoken on the phone. Interestingly, one call I remember was when he'd suffered a loss. I had been through a lot by that point in my life, having lost loved ones and found ways to cope. So we talked about it. Even in tough times like that, I enjoyed our talks, as I've enjoyed the many talks I've had with his partner, Jay.

It's a human failing that we think there always will be time to meet people. That's how I thought of Scott. I missed a visit he made to New York not so long ago, but I figured I'd catch him next time. Now, after our schedules not clicking multiple times, he's gone and "next time" will never come.

I've been blessed to make so many friends on here. I hesitate to start mentioning them, because I'll miss someone. But to give you an idea of how many people this medium brought into my world: Byrne and Andy and Pony and Rob and Jay and Scott and Alex and Patrick and Jason and Matt and Patrick and Michael and Aaron and Deidre and Pua and Richard and Toddy and Jeff and Glenn and Atticus and Joel and Steven and Albert and Karen. And there are more. I feel quite sure I've missed any number of friends.

Most of these people became friends IRL (in real life). Some of them are among our dearest friends now. But even those we never got to meet became close. Over time, you can develop quite a connection through blogging, then private messages and then phone calls. Three of the people I just mentioned are gone. They were too young, but we don't get to decide that. They're gone, and while I never got to hug those three and see them face-to-face, their loss is very real.

Rest in peace, my friends. And the rest of us? Let's not allow too much time to slip by between meetings. Okay?

I've discovered the secret to immortality!

And the secret to immortality is... mothballs!

My grandmother died over 13 years ago. We inherited some lovely furniture from her. In some of the furniture, she'd used mothballs.

Sometime last year, my sandals got dropped into a drawer. Probably after our summer trip to Savannah.

Since it's pretty warm today, I dug them out. I'm now walking around with the smell of Nana Nan's mothballs wafting up at me. *sigh*

Nana lives on!

Sorry blog. I don't mean to abandon you. For now, here's a book review!

The Prisoner by Alex Berenson
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

The Prisoner is the latest installment in the John Wells series by Alex Berenson. Unlike too many other authors' series, the John Wells novels don't take the easy or simple route. Our hero doesn't have magical strokes of luck or flashes of (literally) unbelievable intuition that save the day.

Wells is smart, experienced and tough, but he's still human. He makes mistakes and he feels his wounds. He can endure things that would finish most of us, but he still pays a price. In The Prisoner, he tries to balance a part of him that's pulling him to domestic life and tranquility that he's certainly earned against his internal call to duty that he can't resist. A serious threat is looming--a threat coming from a place that jeopardizes the US too much for him to ignore--and he can't just walk away.

To try to get to the bottom of it, Wells has to put himself in dangerous places he knows all too well, risking his own safety in the process. The tension in The Prisoner is palpable, and, sadly, much of the action is all too plausible in today's world. If you like espionage/terrorism-centered novels but find yourself rolling your eyes at some of the more simplistic authors' work, then you should try this series. Alex Berenson writes novels that make you think, don't take easy ways out and still give you an exciting ride!


View all my reviews

This is the example a leader should set?

Our new president continues to be hard to understand or believe. Still, the ease with which people can push his buttons can be entertaining.

Honestly, I'm partly horrified and partly pleased with every silly thing that sets off a Trump storm. The pleasure comes from the fact that few people deserve the irritation more than he (that, and it keeps him from doing more damaging things with that time). The horror is fueled by the example he's setting. How many millions think this kind of childish behavior is acceptable in an adult? I don't believe that leaders used to be without flaws--far from it--but there were certain expectations and levels of respect that were understood to be a requirement of such positions.

But this behavior? The way this man behaves would have gotten me in trouble as a child, let alone as an adult. My parents weren't old fashioned in most ways. In fact, they were very open, accepting people, but they did expect certain standards to be observed, particularly in public. For example, when I was a kid, I was taught that if I were lost or in trouble, I should look for a police officer. And then there's that title, police officer. I remember once using the term "cop," and I was nicely but quite firmly reminded that this is a person who works to protect the rest of us and is entitled to respect. I was to say police officer. RESPECT mattered.

Okay, that example may be a little out of date--different times--but respect still matter. Certain levels of civility and respect are vital. In the latest Trump bad behavior, he is showing his disdain for the courts, because judges have dared question the Constitutionality of his actions. This is unspeakably damaging to the Republic. No president before this one would do this. He is signaling to millions that it's okay to disrespect the judiciary. Not that judges don't make bad decisions--no one is perfect--but respect for the courts' role is vital. The three branches must respect each other's role.

This man isn't fit to be president. Anyone who could act as he does is simply unfit. So keep torturing him via Twitter and wherever else. He deserves every bit of it! Sadly, none of that is going to measure up to the damage he may be doing to our country!

Sources of satisfaction

As you may know, I lost my job about 8 months ago. Nothing I did to deserve it. My CEO retired, and the new one wanted to bring in her own people. I (and some other people) were in the way. That's life, unfortunately.

Since then, I've been looking for work. Given my experience and credentials, prior periods of unemployment (like when St. Vincent's went bankrupt and we all got laid off) were relatively short. A month or so. Not this time!

I've had some nibbles, but really very few interviews for this much time. No new job, either. Along the way, Marc and I talked about my starting my own business. I'd certainly seen others do the same.

So I went through the process to create an LLC for some protection, got myself insured, and I'm figuring out what to market and how. Luckily, my husband is a marketing guru!

Did I mention that it's unnerving and depressing to be unemployed? And every rejection for a job is a rejection of you as a person? Maybe I shouldn't take it that way, but that's how it feels!

Half our income is gone, but we've been careful over the years, so we're not buried in debt. Our care is being rewarded now. We have to budget much more carefully, but we're okay!

Back to the main thought behind this post--in the midst of disappointment, frustration and self-doubt, working on this business idea has been a real mood booster. We don't have the first penny of business yet, but building a structure and watching it come together has made me feel so much better!

All I'm doing this evening, as I watch the Super Bowl in the background, is sketching out more of the services we can provide, and it's so satisfying to see it down on paper! Not doing business yet, but I'm getting something done. That's enough for now!

Maybe there is no complete healing

Marc has told me many times that grief over the loss of a dear loved one is something you get through but you never really get over. He may be right.

Like so many of us, I've suffered terribly painful losses in my life. My Dad. My Mom. A number of others dear to me. I've realized over the years that my reaction to grief is to try to bury it as deep as I can. I was raised to be strong for those around me and not cry. That was my Dad's advice. He was a very loving father, and he meant well.

In any case, I did that with the biggest losses in my life. But I've realized over time that the pain doesn't go anywhere. It's buried in there, just waiting for something that makes it leak out. 20 years ago, I might have been moved by a film I saw but never would have been brought to tears. But now? Push the right buttons, and I'm all choked up.

What really brought this home today was a reminder of Jet. She was our dog when I was a boy. She was two years older than me, and she died when I was in elementary school. Here's a photo of me and Jet when I was 3 and she was 5:

Today's reminder brought me back to a day in 1978. I came home from school as usual. When I got here, the TV was on, and there was a commercial on for the Bronx Zoo. There was a lion on the screen. I said to Mom, "speaking of lions, where's Jet?" And Mom told me... Jet was gone. I remember I cried then, but in the years to come I got better about burying it, even as the losses piled up.

I'm crying as I type this, remembering that day when Jet died. That's almost 40 years ago. So when does the pain fade away? I guess maybe it doesn't. I'll always miss everyone. Dad, Mom, Uncle Allan... everyone. And the doggies... Jet, Hoyt, Bernice, Mandy and my baby boy Dodger. It seems the pain's never gone. I've just hidden it away. I guess it's how I am, and I need to make the best of it.

I'm busy enough to retire

After these months of unemployment, I'm now sure. I could retire right now. I just need someone to give me a big pile of money, so Marc and I don't need to work anymore. If I could just get that pile of money, I have plenty of non-work things to fill my day!

Whether I'm running errands, tending to household repairs or any of the many other things that fill my day, I continue to be amazed by how full these days are. As busy as when I'm working? No, I suppose not. But busy enough that I could accomplish enough each day to feel like I'm getting things done. Throw in a little of the volunteer work I'd enjoy doing, and I definitely feel ready for retirement. Now I just need that money! Any of you nice folks want to help us out? Don't be shy! ;-)

Thunderstorm Asthma? Is that like my "Extrinsic Asthma"?

‘Thunderstorm Asthma’ Kills 8 in Australia

This story got my attention, not just as an interesting story but because it may shed some light on a personal mystery. Years ago, I started having some trouble getting a full breath. I had medical tests done, saw specialists and they found nothing. One doctor's best guess--and it was very clearly a guess--was what he called "extrinsic asthma."

I've had allergies all my life. As a kid, I spent 8 years going to the allergist every Friday for shots. Yes, allergy shots. Every Friday after school. That helped, but eventually we were told I was as good as the shots would get me. The severity of my allergies varies, but they're always there. I'm allergic to pretty much anything that can float through the air--pollen, dander, dust and on & on. The doctor's guess was that when my allergies sufficiently irritated my lungs, my bronchial tree would get inflamed. While not meeting the technical definition of asthma, the effect is the same. Fortunately, it's never been so severe that it has threatened my survival, and I hope it never does! But trust me, not being able to get a full breath is quite a distressing feeling. On top of that, it always takes weeks or months to go away.

My "extrinsic asthma" recurs every few years. In the past, I've been through all manner of tests. I've had more cardiac tests than I care to remember. (When you're obese, they immediately think anything like this is cardiac.) After two rounds of those, a few years apart, I stopped them from doing it again the next time. We just went with a simple EKG--no thallium heart scans, stress tests, etc.--and ruled out heart issues.

I've been to pulmonologists a couple of times. The last guy put me through lots of tests, including one that determined I have 127% lung capacity. Not sure what that compares to--127% compared to what?--but he clearly had no idea what was going on. (I wasn't actively having my issues right then, so...)

Anyhow, this "thunderstorm asthma" makes pretty clear that an allergy attack can drive asthmatic symptoms. Actually, this is pretty scary, since this thing killed people. But it validates the "extrinsic asthma" theory. Maybe it's that simple. My allergies irritate my lungs, and eventually they rebel. Now, if I could just figure out how to tell when that's building up, so I can take Benadryl or whatever and head it off. No luck with that so far, but I think I have more faith in this answer now.

Two years without our Dodger

If you know us, you probably know Dodger. Maybe you met him or maybe you knew him through this blog or Facebook. In any case, you know that he was a very special part of our lives.

Two years ago today, he died. We helped him in that process, and I still feel guilty about that. Don't get me wrong--on an intellectual level, I know his time had come. His body was failing him. We'd done everything we (and the vets) could. The night before he died, he couldn't even get up to go out, and that was with meds and his special harness to help him walk. He'd been having serious trouble, on and off, for months. But we'd reached the point where he really was done.

Logical thoughts are not what haunt me, however. Emotions do. Deep down, I feel like I failed him. I feel like, if I looked hard enough, I could have found some other way to help him. He would have given his life to protect me, and I had a hand in taking his life. It feels so wrong. I'm sorry, Dodger! I wish I knew what else to do!

I loved all of our dogs--and I love this crazy girl we have here today--but Dodger was very unusual. He was smart, but others are smart. He also had a personality that was very human. He showed his opinions, and he had a sharp wit. I know... wit in a dog? Oh, yes. You could see it in action if you lived with him. He was quite amazing.

By the way, he didn't always have that white face, but that's how some knew him and many of our friends remember him. Here's a shot from when he was about four-and-a-half years old:

From the look, he either was in no mood to have his photo taken or I'd done something wrong. :-) Most of the time, he was ready with a smile!

We say that Bernice was the one who defined all the things a dog is supposed to be, but Dodger combined dog traits with an amazingly human personality. He also had great judgment. We knew our friend Sid was someone we were likely to keep in our lives for the long run. A couple of months before Dodger died, we barely knew Sid from rugby, but he needed some portraits done, so I agreed to shoot them.

Now, one of Dodger's traits was that he wouldn't welcome just anyone into his home, even if we did. Rather, he'd observe them for a bit and then decide if they were worthy of his attention. He exercised his judgment freely, and his judgment about people tended to be sound. Well, when he met Sid, this is what happened virtually the instant Sid arrived...

For Dodgie, it was love at first sniff. That's all we needed to know. And sure enough, Sid became and remains a close friend.

As I got in bed last night, with Lexi between Marc and me, I remembered how Dodgie spent his last night in that same spot. We knew the end was coming, and we wanted him to be as comfortable as possible. Really, we always did. But once that thought entered my mind... well, I didn't sleep much last night. Today marks two years without our sweet, wonderful little boy. I'm starting to cry again as I type this. I do try to remember all the joy he brought, but I miss him so much! I'm sorry, my Dodgie! I wish you could still be here with us, happy and healthy! Rest in peace, my little boy!

A dog after my own heart

Lexi has this thing she does in the morning, called "going back to bed." Marc gets up earlier than me. That's not unusual, as he's a morning person. He also has a job. I got up not long after, but Lexi knows there's about an hour that she can come back, hop on the bed and curl up against my legs after she has gotten her breakfast and yard visit from Marc.

But now we've reached a new level of canine accomplishment. She may be a full-of-energy less-than-two-years-old pup, but she knows the value of a comfy bed! After I got up this morning, she watched me go brush my teeth, get dressed, etc., and then she just watched me leave. The look on her face seemed to say, "I'm good right here. You go have fun! I'm here if you need me."

After a while, she came downstairs, but I had to laugh. She just watched me go, while she relaxed on the bed.

Patience may be a virtue, but it isn't easy!

Six months ago today, our new CEO called me in to tell me she'd decided to eliminate my position. She claimed my job--and some others--had to go, due to budget problems. It sounded like a lie, because I knew they'd still need HR leadership for such a large organization. Also, I handled legal matters, in addition to my HR work, and sending those to outside counsel certainly wasn't going to save money!

Sure enough, my suspicions eventually were confirmed when she hired someone she knew well after I left. She just had to "reorganize," so she could bring in her guy--after a "lengthy search" that magically selected the person she already knew.

C'est la vie! Ironically, right before the layoff meeting, Marc and I had given a friend a chunk of money to help him with expenses as things were very tight for him. No regrets there. Helping friends is one of life's joys. But the timing was unbelievable.

Marc has been the best support I could ask. He's encouraged me to be patient. He has told me not to jump at just anything--that I should wait for a job that's worth it.

Still, it's so hard to be patient. I've been searching every day. I've been on interviews. I've seen jobs that I decided weren't worth it. I have more opportunities coming up. I'm also looking into building a consulting business. Whether it's a side business or becomes something bigger, we shall see. In the meantime, I'm hoping I'll get a job sometime soon. We have been careful about money and debt over our years together, so we're okay for now, but I really don't like this. I hope my 6 months' patience is rewarded soon! Send good thoughts my way!

That would have made Star Trek: The Next Generation even better

Time to revive my poor, yet-again-neglected blog. And what better reason to restart it than the sighting of a hot man? This afternoon, as I was doing chores, I was watching an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, called "The Outrageous Okona."

When I saw Captain Thadiun Okona, I was... interested. Marc is the one who remembers actors, their names, etc.  I'm pretty bad about such things. Anyhow, the actor was Billy Campbell. He looked like this in the episode:

Looking him up, I was reminded of some of his roles. I also read that he was the first choice to play Commander Riker. No offense to Jonathan Frakes, but... wow, he could have been Commander Riker? I was and am a Trek fan anyhow, but looking at this every week wouldn't have been too much of a hardship!:

Come on, would that have been so much to ask?

Musings on stuff blowing up

So the explosions in Tianjin, China, got me thinking about the forces we can unleash and how puny we are in comparison to the mess our efforts can make. The estimates I heard were that it was equivalent to 21 tons of TNT. Pretty damn big, since that's 42,000 pounds, and one pound of TNT would do plenty of damage. For reference:

But going back to the China explosions. 21 tons of TNT, you saw that horror on the news. And then think back to the A-bombs. Hiroshima was hit by the equivalent of 15,000 tons of TNT. 30,000,000 pounds equivalent.

And then when the big countries really play like boys with new toys... Ever hear of the Czar Bomba? During the really entertaining part of the Cold War, the Soviets came up with that one. They scaled it back, because the original yield was so big that the plane dropping it couldn't have escaped, even with the drogue chute slowing it down. The scaled-down version had a yield in excess of 50 megatons. That is, comparing to the China explosions' 21 tons of yield, 50,000,000+ tons. (The pre-scaling back plan was for a 100 megaton bomb.) If you want to know more...

And the really fun part? Have you heard of the explosion of the Krakatoa volcano? That would be nature showing us that, yes, we remain mere ants in the grand scheme. The Krakatoa volcanic explosion is estimated to have had about 4 times the power of the Czar Bomba. Take that, humans!

Nice upgrade

I'm traveling for business. Alas, Marc couldn't tag along, and I can't stand being apart from him. But that's not what this is about. Rather, it's about the plane I'm in as I type this. I've never been a fan of the 737. It should have been a creation of Airbus, because that's how it always felt to me--like a flying bus.

Well, this plane is a 737, but it's not what I'm used to. It's a newer model, the Boeing 737-900ER, and it's quite a difference from what I usually think of as a 737. Many upgrades and modern touches, from the seats to the cabin lighting to the entertainment systems.

Nicely done! I hope more airliners get this kind of treatment!

The mysteries of life

I'm flying to Savannah to meet Marc at our new vacation/rental home. (Due to work schedules, he was able to go yesterday.) I couldn't get a nonstop flight at a good price, so I'm going to Atlanta where I have a connection to a Savannah flight.

As I type this on my iPad (for posting later--in airplane mode now, of course), I am waiting out a mystery. The flight attendant, Javier, has a lovely accent, but his accent was enough for me to be unclear as to whether dinner is beet salad or beef salad. Either may turn out to be interesting from a culinary point of view, but I honestly don't know what to expect, despite hearing him say it several times as he addressed me and the nearby passengers (and told us that he was sorry but it--whatever it is--is the only thing available today). 

But at least this is a distraction from the guy across the way who has spent the entire flight, thus far, playing solitaire with real cards and shuffling the damn things loudly several times before each hand. That may sound minor, but after a while, the urge to beat him with the drink cart sounds reasonable!

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Update: Beef it is. Really, three small pieces of roast beef with some dressing. It'll do!

A canine life well lived! (Not that she's done!)

Looks like she's still having lots of fun. She and her relatives in this piece remind me of our girl Mandy.

Facebook

Today, I deactivated my Facebook account. It may not last--some friends won't be happy with this--but I've toyed with the idea for a while.

While Facebook can be great for reconnecting with people you haven't seen in years and keeping tabs on others, it's a huge time drain. Yes, I could just limit my use of it, but that doesn't really happen, even when I tell myself it will. It's like a Siren, calling me to crash on the rocks of wasted time. I definitely have better things to do.

Also, friends who I know don't mean harm (I know them in real life, so I know them well enough to be sure) post things that upset me. Why would I want more of that? So it was time to shut it down. The negatives outweigh the positives. Who needs that?

Picking up and moving forward

No, this isn't another post about mourning for our lost doggies. Rather, this has to do with yesterday's accident at LaGuardia Airport, where a landing Delta plane slid sideways and slammed into a fence near the water.

I saw on last night's news that they had a crane starting to remove the plane, but I still couldn't figure how they could finish the NTSB investigation and get the airport reopened by this morning (as they said they had). It's not like LaGuardia has lots of spare capacity. Their old runways are barely enough to do the job on a normal day.

Then today's commute to work showed me how they had adapted. My commute takes me right by the airport. It's fun (for an airplane geek like me, at least) when a jetliner flies right overhead, as it touches down on the runway that starts right next to the parkway. Since I'm heading roughly west at that point and the airplanes pass from my left to my right, I'd say that's runway 04 (yes, I've even looked up LGA's runways). My commute also gives me a good view of the other side of the airport, as I drive along the Whitestone Expressway for a short distance. From that, I know (and gather this is common, except at really small airports) that they use one runway for landings and another for takeoffs on a typical day.

On a typical day, my close pass by the end of runway 04 will either let me see planes coming in to land or planes lined up to take off. In the latter case, as each one takes off, the next moseys up (a technical aviation term) for its turn, a nice slow taxiing to the threshold of the runway.

Today, however, I saw both planes coming in and planes waiting to take off from the very same spot. I could see the line in the sky to my left and the line on the ground to my right. As I sat in traffic (did I mention it can be a lovely commute on the Grand Central Parkway?), I saw a plane land and then one of the ones on the ground taxi very quickly into position, followed by the immediate roar of its engines as it started its takeoff roll.

I guess that's the answer for now. They're doing a tightly choreographed dance, with takeoffs and landings on the same runway. The coffee machines must be working hard in the LaGuardia Tower and TRACON in Westbury. As exciting as it sounds, I'm glad it's not me in one of those air traffic controller seats. The stress level must be huge today! (And I doubt the passengers even realize--at least most of them. In fact, I'm sure any number of the passengers have been grumbling about delays, without giving a thought to what all this takes. Anyhow, I'm impressed!)

The time it takes to heal

My last post shared the news of Dodger's death. Even then, the news was weeks old. At this point, over three months have passed, but it still hurts. Still, I'm trying to cling to the happy memories and let the heartache go. It hurt when the girls died, but I feel like I dealt with those losses better. That may be because I still had canine love in the house to help me through.

For a lot of reasons, we're not getting another dog now. We will, someday, but not now. I just wish I could stop hurting so much. And one of my silly little joys related to the dogs has now become a bit of salt in the wound. I'd rewrite song lyrics around the dogs. In the past couple of years, mostly around Dodger.

These days, the Dodger songs run in my head all the time. I'm not a religious person, but I sometimes feel there's more. I honestly don't know, but I hope there's a spirit that lives on.

Today, I said to Marc, "do you think Dodger's spirit is here with me?" Marc said yes. I said that I feel like he must be. I know my love for him may just have me obsessed with him, and maybe it's that simple. But maybe, just maybe, he is here by me to this day. Actually, right as I was having that thought--and right as I was getting ready to say that to Marc, a little bundle of Dodger fur blew across the floor in front of me. I don't know where it came from after all this time, but it was in some little corner somewhere, and then there it was in front of me at just the right moment. A sign? It sure seems like it.

Worrier that I am, I then asked Marc if Dodger will be upset when the day comes that we get another dog. Marc said that Dodger will understand, because he knows how I love doggies. Still, now I'll worry about that. *sigh* It's not easy living in this head!

In the meantime, I'm trying to remember how he had so much more happiness in his life than pain. I guess I'm getting there, but my own pain is still there. Still, this photo, taken late in his life with his new friend Sid, is a good reminder of what a happy boy he was...

The best little boy in the world is gone, and we are crushed

If you read this blog, you may also be connected to me on Facebook. If you are, you know this already. But just in case...

Anyone who knows Marc and me knows how dear our pups always have been to us. You also know that we lost the girls in 2012. Thankfully, our wonderful boy, Dodger, kept on going. I could go on and on about Dodger... how smart, sweet, loyal, tough, wonderful... but no words could do him justice.

On November 28, 2014, we lost our boy.

His health had been failing for a long time. We did everything we could, got him every kind of help we could find, but in the end, some things are beyond everyone's power to stop.

It got to the point that his quality of life was gone. As the vet told Marc, with the amount of pain and other meds he was on, if he couldn't even sleep--which is where he was at--his pain and discomfort were severe enough that the meds couldn't control it. He was "maxed out" on the meds. He couldn't get comfortable, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't stand without help (he even had a special harness to help us help him without causing pain), and even then he couldn't stay up long. He'd even gotten to the point that he couldn't get from lying on his side to his belly.

Still, getting myself from saying those things to really feeling that we'd done that right thing has taken a lot. We've both been suffering, but this really has been an amazingly crushing blow for me. I think it's more than just losing our boy, but more on that in another post. For now, farewell to our sweet, wonderful boy! You'll be in our hearts forever, and I hope there's something after this life and that I get to hold you in my arms and pet your pretty head again! I love you, baby!