Carbohydrates: A Love/Hate Relationship.

I've been feeling kinda bad the past few years. I could launch into a HUGE soliloquy of what was going on but I'll spare you, my dear reader.

Seems I have SEVERELY underestimated what carbohydrates were doing to my blood sugars. I don't know why I didn't make the connection.. well, I do too know. My brain was starving from my blood turning to sludge because of consistently high blood sugar numbers. I am apparently very susceptible to the sugar from carbs.(Ok, who isn't) but I'm not talking about taste, I'm talking about the effect on my body. I've been CLUELESS about this.. clueless I tell you! Yes, I can hear what you're thinking "THAT AIN'T THE ONLY THING, BUDDY!" but, please indulge me and let me continue.

I have cut out most carbs from my diet and in TWO DAYS TIME. I have been able to cut my insulin needs by more than HALF!! (No, I'm not about to try and sell you a miracle product.. "And you get this Cutlery knife!!" just pay separate shipping..)

I've cut bread, pasta, potatoes and anything else that looks like a carb and thrown then right out the window. I almost threw my dad out the window (I was on a roll) but my brother caught me just in time.

I'm still in shock over this. I was taking TREMENDOUS AMOUNTS of insulin. BIG Amounts! Other diabetics would scream in horror when I told them how much I had to take. Doctors would Gasp! My next door neighbor took off her blouse and flashed me! ok, I think my neighbor has a lil sumpin else a goin rotten in her medulla oblongotcha, but thats a whoooole different story.

The fact is, I've been able to make a great turnaround in 48 hours! If my feet hadn't been amputated from the ankles down, I could have turned around MUCH faster! Just kidding, I still have both my feet..and several other pairs from God knows where.

Anyway, Thats about it, Now, I think I MIGHT live past 50. (Barring natural disaster, Acts of God and any future Paulie Shore movies.

Torturing My Dog.. and other fun past times.

I want to give my dog, Baby, a bath. Baby does not like baths. Not many dogs do. They like smelly things. They like being smelly. I can take Baby on a walk and she will pretty much take my arm off to get to a dead squirrel 50 yards away. I had a distant cousin who did the same thing but fortunately he wasn't let outside much. In that moment, there is nothing more important than for her to flop over on her back and swish back and forth until she been assured that the aroma of death has properly taken its place in her pores.

I used to give her a bath once a week but she quickly decided she was up to the act of war I had declared upon her and was not going to agree to any treaty no matter how many doggie biscuits I waved in front of her. I almost had her with some baked chicken one time but she was decidedly quicker on the draw and retreated with the chicken leg and without any type of moisture anywhere near her person. Apparently smelling like a deceased animal is extremely appealing and us humans are missing out.

Once, I was able to outsmart her. She loves to go on walks.. especially in the nearby cemetery. Yes, cemetery. Again, death comes into the picture. Baby seems to have a morbid side. Every time I pull out her leash she starts dancing around faster than a widow women at a full gospel church during a revival. I slipped the leash around her and then took her to the side of the house where the water hose is. I was able to get her wet down and even got some shampoo rubbed into her coat before she realized I was barefoot. I can barely see the scar now days.

I have tried my best to train her and I've gotten her to the point where I can say "Get into the tub" and she will jump in. Now this only works if I already have her IN the bathroom with the door shut..and locked. I also had to make myself clear that I wanted her to STAY in the tub. It was a loophole I naively overlooked at first. After I thought about it a bit I realized that making her get into the tub on her own was akin to when your parents were going to spank you and would make you go find a leather belt or go cut your own switch.

Over all, Baby is a good dog. She knows several commands and most of the time ignores them completely but by golly she knows what they mean. I keep her around because she makes me laugh and I'm getting accustomed to the smell of dead animals.

More Cataract Surgery

Well, It's been a little over a month since dads last cataract surgery and everything has gone just peachy. He's down to one round of eye drops a day and he is so thankful that they will be over soon. What he has yet to realize is that the rounds for the surgery on his OTHER eye will start the day after we stop on the first one. He ain't gonna be happy.

"Mr Blinky" has gotten a bit more familiar with the drops and doesn't struggle near as much...granted he still complains about it but at least I won't have to tie one end of a string to his eyelid and the other to the dog while tossing the cat over to the dogs supper dish.

Not looking forward to the next month of all those eye drops but if he will simply stop scurrying behind the couch every time they are due, I'd be happy. The dog keeps looking at him as if to say "He wanna givz u a baff too?"

I just finished cutting his hair because he wanted to be all nice and presentable for his surgery. I actually think he just wants to present a dashing figure to the pretty nurses.

(Psssst...Give it up dad, you haven't got enough money and I don't want a stepmother. If she told me to clean my room I'd be obligated to kill her.. a lot)

We usually cut his hair on the front porch. I do this for two reasons..One, so I won't have to vacuum the carpet and two, the hair blows into my neighbors yard. It's funny because Mr Johnson is white haired also and I can hear him complain to his wife that he's shedding. When you're stuck inside a house as a caregiver, you go for whatever entertainment you can get. Repeats of Bonanza and Gunsmoke every 4 hours just doesn't cut it and I've seen Mary Ingalls go blind at least 325 times.

A couple months ago, he got hearing aids for the first time. I am most thankful for those. The only problem I have is that he wants to take them out two hours before he goes to bed. I know when he's done it because the television volume rises about 20 decibels and my computer monitor starts to head towards the edge of the desk from the vibration. Today he said "I'm almost all fixed up, all I need are new legs" I told him I'd start looking for some at Walmart.

All in all it's been a good experience. I'm just ready for his eyes to be healed so he can start telling the difference between the toilet and the clothes hamper.

Cataract Surgery

Well, ol dad has not been able to see very well for the past few years and he decided he wanted to have Cataract surgery. Actually it was not so much his decision as it was the Veterans Administration. He went in to get new glasses and they said he couldn't have new ones until he had the surgery.

He wasn't happy.

Seems my grandmother, his mom, had cataract surgery 40 years ago and it didn't go well. He was scared to have it done. We tried to reassure him that great strides have been made in the past 40 years but he would not be deterred. The doctor also tried to reassure him but to no avail. He was positive he was destined to be blind and forced to sell pencils in front of the Walmart.
Every day closer to the surgery I heard the same thing..

"I sure wish this surgery was over with"

By the time the surgery was slated to occur, I was wishing the same thing.

Ever had to put drops into a childs ears or eyes? Well, 84 year old men, aren't much different. I've now come to refer to my dad as "Mr Blinky".
You have to start with the drops three days before the surgery. Mr Blinky did not like the drops. He did not like them at all. He would shut his eyes repeatedly. He would turn his head towards the pillow and shout "NO!" He would say "I have to go to the bathroom first" and when he came back, His eye would be rested from all the exercise and ready to start blinking all over again.
I was getting ready to drag him outside and hook his eyelid up to the bumper of my truck and pull it open with a chain.

The surgery day came upon us and off we went to the hospital. We had to be there two hours early in order to do paperwork. The paperwork only took 15 minutes. He had an hour and forty five minutes to worry himself to death so he wouldn't have to go through with it. He did his best to make that happen but darn his luck.. he didn't have enough time to make that massive heart attack happen before they called him in.

They told me the surgery would only take 45 minutes. The time came and went. I was beginning to get worried. If something went wrong I would never hear the end of it. They finally called my name and I went back to see him. he was sitting up in a chair with a huge patch over his eye. His first and only words to me were "I want Red Beans, Fried Potatoes and Cornbread for lunch". I figured he was going to be ok.. except that it takes several hours to make pinto beans.. he wasn't going to get them.

The eye drop ritual continues in the days after.. in fact we are still fighting that battle. He has calmed down little bit since he has seen that the drops weren't going to burn his cornea off and LOW AND BEHOLD!! HE CAN SEE!...but he still wears the title of "Mr Blinky" proudly. Maybe its just me but his eyelid seems to be more muscular. It does it's best to bat those drops right outta the way.

We get to start on the other eye next month.. I already have the chain hooked to the truck bumper.

You've Been Talking in Your Sleep..

Since I got the dog fixed, I haven't been getting a lot of sleep the past few days so I took some time to steal a nap today. It was reeeeaaaaaallly nice.. for a bit. I started to dream.. it was creeping into nightmare category when my dog jumped up on the bed and licked me in the mouth to wake me up.

I would not recommend letting your dog lick you in the mouth. It's gross..no matter how lonely you may be. I think it is also illegal in several states including Hawaii and Puerto Rico... oh wait.. that's for entering contest. Nevermind.

Anywhooo.. I dreamed that a bunch of bank employees had come into my home. They were there to escort my mother down to the bank to sign some legal papers. Now my mom has been dead for 15 years so I have no idea why she'd be coming back to do much of anything unless it was to yell at me to clean my bedroom.
So I'm standing there in my bedroom (Yes mom, I WAS embarrassed they saw the mess, you win) and the window was missing leaving a large hole in the wall. Two slovenly bank employees were standing right by the windowless window, smoking cigarettes. I have no idea what significance slovenly bank people have in my life or why I'd be dreaming of them but most of them I've met seem to bathe on a regular basis and they have the decency to stay out of my dreams.

So they wanted my mom to hurry up. I went to get her and I found her dressed in what I can only describe as a Leprechaun outfit.. a sequined leprechaun outfit. Now while I do not personally know any leprechauns, I do have some friends who are rather short in stature albeit none of them are hiding vast pots of gold or shouting out "They're magically delicious!! in an Irish brogue.

I informed my mom that she would have to change clothes and left. She came out of her bedroom in a gold lame evening gown. While bank employees do indeed, dress well, I felt she was still a bit overdressed for the occasion.

I don't know what happened next because that's when my dog jumped up on the bed and did that awful thing she did. I'm still gagging as I write this.

My Dog Hates Me Now

As in my last post I wrote that I was taking my Cattle Dog "Baby" to be spade. Well the big day came yesterday. One requirement was to have her rabies certificate to prove she'd had her shots but I could not find it. I was supposed to go back to the clinic and get a copy...which I forgot to do. She was to be at the clinic at 8:00am and at 2:00am I was furiously throwing the contents of my desk drawers onto the floor. Not that I'm messy and unorganized or anything but after sending in an application video of my house, the TV show "Hoarders" sent me a rejection letter that only had the words "Oh God NO!" written on it.
At any rate, I found the original certificate stuck to the side of my desk drawer with some old chewing gum.

The drive over was supposed to take 20 minutes according to Mapquest which I should have questioned after seeing "Last Updated June 1995" at the bottom of the screen.
We eventually got to the spay and neuter clinic where Baby flew out of the truck after spotting a potential new boyfriend in a handsome Beagle. (I hated to tell her that her timing was WAY off on this one.)

I reluctantly left her and continued home to wait until I could pick her up. When I went back, she was happy to see me. She was also happy to see the wind and various other objects that were apparently dancing merrily around in her head. She drunkenly walked with me to the truck, stumbling like a frat girl on her way to an eventual early morning "Walk Of Shame."

She had to wear a plastic lampshade on her head to keep her from licking her stitches. I understood the reasons since my elderly dad once had surgery and I had a heck of a time trying to stop him from doing the same thing.

My outside cat normally tries his best to ignore Baby who usually tries to get him to play when he comes into the house but this time he spotted the lampshade on her head, saw how lethargic she was and stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at her as if to say "What the crap is that"?

Since she has awakened a bit more as the day has progressed shes made the best of her situation and used the cone to scrape up the snow from the ground and throw it up in the air to catch it in her mouth... I took it as a hint to fill up her water bowl.

She's doing better now and is alternately pawing at the cone then pawing my hand to take it off.

It's going to be a long week.

No Grandpuppys For Me, Thank You..

I'm taking my Cattle Dog, Baby, to get her sterilized in a couple days. I have mixed feelings about this. While I definitely do not want any smaller versions of her obliterating rolls of toilet paper on the living room carpet the way she does, it makes me wonder if I am doing her a disservice by taking away the chance to be a mother.

Is she going to get into her 30's (in doggie years) and start to feel the tick of her biological clock? Will she walk the isles at Petsmart and start to shed tears when she sees a newborn with its mother? Will she miss the memories of having to make pizza rolls for her adult son that lives in her basement, typing in caps on heated Star Wars forums and who forgets her birthday?

Somehow, I doubt it.


The most difficult thing about it is having to wear one of those plastic lampshades on her head for a week. She is going to go nuts. Having worn a plastic lampshade on my head during a wild party years ago and not getting any laughs.. I can feel her pain. I will have a few laughs at her expense, especially after I distribute several nuggets of her dry dog food on the floor and exclaim "LOOK! SHES A VACUUM CLEANER!" to whoever has the misfortune of visiting.


Poor thing.. She has no idea what she is in for...