Some periods in time really are just about crap, whether it is crap we endure or miscellaneous crap. This past week, crap was the focal point, and not just in a Freudian Anal stage way.
The prelude starts on the crazy crazy odds front, I was playing poker at a free tournament on base on Monday night. Out of 98 people, I made it to the final two. Between us, we had everyone’s chips. Because we had been playing for over 3 hours and they were trying to close the place, we agreed to “shove all in” until we had a winner. I mean we were close in chips, so how long could it take? I won the first hand, and we realized how close we had been. He had one chip left. Grrr. 8 all in’s later, I left with second place. Two to the eighth power. The odds of that run were 1 in 256. The people watching, including me, were somewhat amazed. They asked if I was upset, but I said I won $50 and had gotten lucky numerous times to get to that point, so no. Still, it does make for kind of a “bad beat” or a “Well, crap!” lol…sigh life has a funny way of foreshadowing the coming week.
The week’s real story all started with finally getting the results of x-rays back to the doctor to confirm what we had suspected was happening. She is never really cleaning her system out. It is a case of epic constipation. I cringe just thinking about what she must go through never being able to push all the poo out for months. We have tried the daily Miralax, and the ex-lax treatment prescribed, but nothing seems to work.
There is some irony in my daughter, A, being the one in our family to be “full of shit.” She is the most honest one in our family, and watching her play ‘BS’ with her cousins was a riot because she can’t lie, and has the hardest time telling when anyone else is lying. It is even common for her when confronted after doing something she should not have done to ask, “Tell the truth?” When answered with an affirmative, she tells the truth even when a lie would have served her well or at least painted her actions in a better light.
The best part of the story comes with the plan to resolve the constipation. She will have to go to the hospital for an IV treatment of ‘Go Lightly.’ I say the best part because of her reaction, “So, will I be able to control the remote and play electronics while I’m there? It is only one needle, and then I can play right? OK. Now O, do not get jealous. You’ll be at home with daddy and K, and I’ll be home the next day.” Of course, he is very jealous. Ours is an odd family where jealousy abides even over the opportunity to go on an epic crappy adventure to the hospital.
(Continue to the next page for the second story, and it is a cute bunny story.)
This week’s poo story almost ends there. Except on Sat., our oldest dog brought a dead baby bunny to our back door as if to ask us to do something to save it. Then our miniature dachshund discovered the nest, but there were no more baby bunnies in it, and after he was through digging through it, none will ever be back. Our oldest dog proceeded to protect another dead bunny from the dachshund, and then we found a live one. The kids were in excited awe at the thought of saving one, so we found a shelter that would care for it if we could get it there.
It was the quietest 40 minutes in the car with the kids I have ever experienced. They were so quiet after being told loud noises could be all it takes to put the baby into shock and kill it. The kids were so excited when we arrived and the vet said the baby bunny was alive and doing well. She explained how much a baby bunny has to be fed at one time and how they put a tube directly in the belly to feed it. A proudly showed her g-tube saying she understood how that works because it is like hers. The vet also explained baby bunnies that young often died of shock just at the thought of being in danger. Evidently, it gives them diarrhea to the point where they die. I thought it a little ironic to have serious health issues in and around our house for the week reduced to crap, either too much or not enough. We only do extremes around here.
The pictures below is of A and O wearing the shirts given to them by the rescue clinic. I would almost swear the picture expresses their “been there, done that, even got the tee-shirt” attitude. They wanted to keep the bunny, and the tee shirts were a poor substitute. Three dogs and three kids is enough despite any desires for more.