Oh you know... Just a Monday Ramble.

I’m not sure if it was Mabel’s passing, crappy weather, or just a stint of the “blah’s” whatever the case- last week can best be summed up as “ugh.” I ended Friday night in the fetal position on the recliner… okay okay… not really… but the thought was tempting.

I had zero energy. Zero creativity.  I had 2 nights of sleeping through Saul’s 3 a.m. BG checks. Friday morning Saul was in DKA. I don’t have it confirmed by a medical professional- but I also don’t need the confirmation because I saw it with my own eyes.

According to the MySentry he ran in the 400 for at least 6 hours… whatever the cause - (kinked tubing? old insulin?) who knows… I nearly passed out when his ketone check was 3.3.

He was a beast. Oh… friends… when he’s high… he’s such a beast. And now that he’s learning to verbalize (which is what I've been wanting all along) … I find dealing with his highs and lows way more emotional (for me) -  instead of just screaming or crying… He actually uses angry, hateful words…. On Friday morning as I was attempting to pump fluids and insulin in him - he was swatting at me screaming “NO MOMMY! NO MOMMY!”  

It was all I could do... to keep myself from envisioning a “future me” wrangling a “future” 17 year old man-boy to the ground and forcing him to comply to my treatment demands… “Oh you’re gonna get this insulin punk… whether you want it or not … cause… “ I’M YOUR MAMA… and you don’t MESS WITH YOUR MAMA!!!!”””

I know it’s difficult when you’re diabetic and you go through these hypo and hyper episodes… I’ve heard/read about and witnessed (not just with Solly) so many T1’s not being fully aware of the behaviors they are exhibiting during highs and lows…. It still doesn’t make it any easier for me. During 2 of Saul’s “hyper” episodes last week I bolused a correction of insulin gave him fluids and then left him lying by himself in his crib… because that’s what he was demanding. Every offer to hold him, carry him, cuddle him, move him to the couch, recliner to watch TV or sit quietly was met with “NOOOOO!!!!” “ME BED!!!!!!!!” “NO MOMMY!!! NO MOMMY!!!” So I would patiently wait outside his bedroom door for Bruce Banner to make his appearance again and for The Hulk to disappear so that we could once again resume our daily lives.

I won’t lie… I would much rather treat lows than highs…. Even though the lows are scarier… a bit more dangerous… def. more urgent… treating highs is just flat out exhausting.

Our house continues to seem quieter with Mabel’s absence. 

While I know Saul’s DAD is not pet and will not be a pet… it has given us all something to look forward to, think about and anticipate.  Sebulsky and I have been trying to out-do each other on the clever scale… thinking up names for our DAD. Most service dogs are given “special names” sometimes related to their line of work. A lot of the great ones have already been used…. “Siren” “Radar” “Meter” “BG” “Tracker.” Jeff came up with one that we both really loved… but Saul has trouble saying it… so we put it on a “maybe” list. However- out of the blue this afternoon - I thought up the bestest name ever. Sebulsky has since confirmed that I am currently in 1^st place and we do, indeed have a “winner.” Since the boys are sleeping I can’t get Saul to practice saying it… so we’ll have to wait and see how it comes out of little Sollys mouth first before declaring success. Meanwhile, Harper insists on calling the dog “Leslie.” I’m not sure where she heard that name- or why she likes it… but she’s renamed all her stuffed animals that, and the random 3 hour pet turtle we kept in the yard a few weeks ago, and she anticipates naming her “future bird” Leslie… All I can think about is that crazy white-haired guy who used to make those stupid movies with O.J. Simpson… wasn’t his name Leslie?

Oh… and back to Harper… Saul (much to Sebulsky’s dismay and disapproval) calls her “Sissy” actually it’s more like “Tissy” which I think is cute… Jeff… not so much so. During Saul’s last site change (after the 2^nd change out in 24 hours) he started crying and then demanding “NO TISSY DO IT” “TISSY DO IT” when it came to inserting the needle. I asked Harper if she wanted to try and she said… “ah… I better just hold his hand.” Which she did… and then wiped the little drops of blood from his old site with a tissue, then gave his 25 hugs and kisses, then sat with him on the couch and watched and episode of “Little Einstein’s” she’s seen 35 times. While she is a bit rotten, a little mischievous, a lot manipulative and way to smart for her own good…. Most of the time she’s a pretty good “Tissy.”

 

I’ve officially rambled way more than publically allowed.

So… here’s to a better week…

I hope we can all find more laughter than tears and more smiles than frowns.

 

 

 

Eulogy

We were driving behind Mom and Dad on the way to the farm. I was reading the Herald Dispatch – Jeff was behind the wheel. I saw the ad- “AKC Basset Hound puppies 8 weeks old.” I begged. I pleaded. I promised. “We’re ready for this Sebulsky- I know we are.”

Jeff and I were 2 years into our relationship. That was 11 years ago.

We turned off the Hal Greer exit. Mom and Dad kept driving.

We turned around and drove straight to see you. I had already made up my mind. We were bringing home a baby basset hound puppy.

Your Mom and Dad were there. Just as fat, smelly and loveable as you…. And all those sweet, pudgy, rollie-pollie brothers and sisters of yours. I picked you out. We couldn’t take you home right away but we did come back and get you 2 weeks later. You rode home wrapped in a towel on my lap. I kissed you a thousand times in those 20 minutes.

Mabel was put to sleep a week ago today. October 4th, 2012. She was put to sleep on the Feast of Saint Francis of Assisi. I like to think that was no coincidence.

 

Our Mabel girl – the crazy, annoying, loud, smelly dog who I thought would live forever. Mabel- the dog with 9 lives. She escaped death on so many occasions Jeff and I eventually quit keeping count. Mabel- she taught us patience. She made us laugh... and cry... and scream... and occasionally yell explisitives.

Whether you loved her or hated her (and I know some of you fall into the latter category) you can not deny that she entertained you. Our family has so many hilarious- sometimes - disturbing memories of her. Whether it was her first "real" brush with death on July 4th at 10 weeks old eating rat poison at the farm- or her last "big adventure" when she went missing for nearly 24 hours only to be discovered at 2:30 a.m. stuck in our neighbors window well (on what happened to be one of the hottest days on record for the Central KY region).

Oh resilient Mabel... how many times did she brave Boone Ave? Our fat, old, basset hound with no eyes, waddling along the road- crossing un-godly traffic to get to the High School- no doubt in search of kids and food... her two favorite things. There was the time she got her head stuck in between porch rails- the time she ate the antique glass Christmas bulbs- the time she ate all our special Christmas Day monkey bread- the time she got attacked by the Curry dogs- the time she walked up Rt.152 with a slice of Ginos pizza in her mouth- the time (this summer) my best friend Lisa and I "rescued" her from the pound... so many stories- so many memories- so much love for one, crazy, stinky, hound dog who barked incessantly and covered our lives in hair and dog drool for years.

 

Our house has been eerily quiet since her passing. Sure we have Broni and Daisy as pets and that does help ease a bit of the loss. But they too, are grieving her absence.

 

I got the call from the vet’s office yesterday… “your package is ready for pick-up.” I now have the difficult task of bringing her remains (which we had cremated) home. I’m pretty sure she’d liked to have been buried at the farm- or maybe Ritter Park- or possibly GRC (where she often frequented).

 

Pets (especially ones like Mabel) aren’t always easy. They require a lot of effort- time- patience- love.

 

I firmly believe every kid should have the opportunity to experience life with a pet and I’m thankful ours got to with Mabel. Kids learn the responsibility of caring for another living creature. They learn empathy.

 

Jeff and I haven’t really talked much about Mabel’s passing. We each are finding closure in our own way.

 

I am comforted by Harper’s simple and optimistic explanation… “God wanted her in heaven so he could give her new eyeballs… that way she’ll see me when I get there.”

 

New Years Eve 2008 Mabel partying like a rockstar

Found this gem on my brothers flickr site.... it is a rarity.

Family photo 2006 or 2007?

Mabel: aka... the devil. The halloween costume she wore for years

After her first surgery... we called her "left eye lopez"

The "younger version"

Mabel in black and white

Her favorite pastime...

RIP Mabel girl. You will not be forgotten.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Discussing difficult D’s

Doctors and counselors will tell you there is a process to grieving- a step by step method that allows one the ability to mentally and emotionally “let go.”

There are some things I remember from 5 years ago that are as plain as day. The dark, deep days of endless depression, the hours of crying, the sadness in Jeff’s eyes, the physical pain, the rage, envy and hatred I secretly felt towards any woman (who by my standard) was incapable of caring for one child – let alone the 3 or 4 I would see them dragging into a store, the knot in my stomach that would tighten when I’d glance at a magazine cover of celebrity pregnancies, the unexplainable sadness and awkward silence that would fill the room when a diaper commercial would be sandwiched between episodes of Days of Our Lives and the Nightly News.  

Each of us at some point in our lives will be faced with (an) insurmountable obstacle(s) to overcome.  Tonight I am reminded of my own personal struggle because tomorrow will be the 5 year mark. 

I’ve only shared my story with women who’ve experienced similar losses. While there are some things I remember… a lot of what happened during those days is marred with confusion, blame, misunderstanding and my attempt to blank things out as they occurred.

It was my first pregnancy. I didn’t know about that whole “don’t say anything till the second trimester” My Dr. refused to do a DNC. I was 30. I ended up in the emergency room. I should have sought counseling. I questioned God. It was the most physically painful experience of my life. I will forever be grateful it happened in the summer. My two Aunts and Mom came and spent a week with me- they painted my house and re-decorated… and although I sometimes look at the wall color and pictures and think…  "hmm…” it also reminds me of the love of family. I blamed myself. Sweet Daisy girl was by my side. I spent a week on the couch watching episodes of LOST in complete darkness. I shut Jeff out. I laid in bed at night scouring countless websites. I developed anxiety. I felt regret. I hated anyone and everyone who said “it’s in God’s hands” “it was meant to be” “things happen for a reason.” I promised to always remember.

Hardly anyone (except Jeff) would have ever guessed I was traumatized by the experience. In public, with family, around friends I refused to show any sign of sadness, anger, frustration or regret... though inside I was grieving.

I realize now that most anyone and everyone ended up being right.

And although I am fortunate to be blessed with two healthy, smart, hilarious, awesome kids – tomorrow I will take a minute… I will step away from them- away from the toys, the singing, the playing, the incessant noise and I will sit in silence- alone – if only for a minute… to grieve the loss of one of two miscarriages I’ve experienced… both very different… but equally sad.

I will remember. I will let go. I will move on.