Update

Song of te day: “King” by Years and years. Very catchy tune. Considering it has been in my head off and on for the past few weeks, I’m not entirely sure yet if that is a good thing, or not. Hah.

So, here we are again. Home alone, sorta. Big brother is off to the Netherlands. Grandpa needs to have a procedure done to his heart, and needs 24 hour observation afterward, so big brother had to fly over. Not the handiest time, admittedly, but it had to be done despite the fact that it really is a very common procedure and not all that bad, according to numerous sources, but understandably grandpa is worried and would prefer to have a familiar face nearby afterward. He didn’t actually ask, didn’t want to make a bother of himself, I guess, but when we offered for one of us to come over, he did burst out in tears with relief. Poor guy.

Anyway, this means I’m on my own dog-sitting, literally, since I’m not worth a dime at the moment anyway with my tender leg and bum shoulder. Grrrr. Did try to do my fair share by hauling stuff one handed, doing dishes (only the big stuff, had to leave the utensils to big brother these past two weeks, I fear) cooking a few times, prepping dog food and sweeping floors and such boring things. You’d be amazed how slow stuff like that goes when you’re shoulder is bummed out of commission. Normally I cut dog bread in half an hour, forty-five minutes at most. Now it takes me over an hour. *sigh* It bums me out, I tell ya.

Didn’t manage as much these past two weeks as we would have liked to, naturally, but there was some progress made. One plus about big brother already having to travel to the Netherlands this very morning, is that he could already take two suitcases with stuff for him and grandpa, meaning that we’ll have more suitcase space available when “moving” day arrives. It means that my room is practically impassible with a stack of suitcases and boxes of the few things I’m going to try to store here for the time being. Regretfully we were forced to get another skip in, if for no other reason that the Land Rover has been parked with its future owner for the past few weeks. Yep, the deal has been made, our baby will be someone else’s in the near future. *sob*

On a more cheerful note, Pim (grandpa’s crossbreed) will be traveling to Finland next month, to be with his new family over there. My friend T found him a home, so at least that is one problem less. Secondly she has found a foster home for Tadaika (another cross, and our problem child with the other dogs) a little later this summer while she looks for a home for her. Another problem less. Did have to have Tadaika spaded this week, which had the poor baby miserable, despite her perfect behavior. She was really whimpering, and that is very unusual for her. Normally she is very stoic about pain, but at the moment she really has plastered herself to my leg (the bum one, naturally) and needs the comfort of proximity. While I took my nap this morning (was up at 4 AM to bring big brother to the airport) she was in the middle of the bed, so I had to hook my legs over her to get to a semi-stretch at least. Luckily I was tired enough not to mind.

Am finding myself rather emotional lately. The end of an era kind of thing, I guess. The slow process of saying goodbye to everything familiar…again. And the dogs…gawd, that hurts a lot, but choices, as they say, make us who we are. The way we figure, we can’t help them here if we’re working too hard at competing with the locals, so…difficult, to say the least. There are times that I just have a bit of an emotional overload and the only thing I can do then is just shut down for a bit and say, fuck it!!! (pardon my language) what must happen will happen; fate and all that carp. It’s how you handle it that matters, I always think.

So, on overall I’m trying to muster a modicum of enthusiasm about this “adventure”. On the plus side, I won’t be on my own just yet, what with big brother going too…well, he better. I was seriously pondering looking for work in the UK, Ireland, Canada, or the US, if I was going to have to go out and look for the proverbial fortune, but he suggested that it would probably be better if we start out in the Netherlands to get our bearings, and then see where we go from there after we’ve had time to catch our breaths, so to speak. I do need to catch my breath for a bit, regain my equilibrium and build some reserves because the past five years or so have definitely taken their toll. There are times when I feel scarily empty inside, and that is never good.

But enough about that, I hate it when I get maudling. What else…well, there still is plenty to do, least of all hauling stuff away and tossing them. Luckily I only need to pack summer clothes when the time is there, now all that remains to be seen is whether I can get it all in the suitcases.

Went to my first workout in twelve days the day before yesterday. I managed a measly half hour, which had me burst in tears at the end…and rush out the gym before anyone noticed. Don’t even know why, since it didn’t hurt atrociously, or that I was disappointed in what I DID manage to do. Had about seven minutes on a bicycle, pumped my biceps, did abs, walked at a 5 incline for about 200 meters, and on the overall was pleased with that. It was just…discomfort, I guess, as if my body wasn’t entirely my own which wrecked my mental stability, or some such. I’m sure that there is some sort of logical explanation for it, but all in all I just want to focus on the good side of it that I went, and did something at least. Yay! I think I’ll go again tonight…I’ll let you know if I did. Hah.

As to my present transport…it’s a little embarrassing. A Fiat 500, I kid you not. To drive it we have to push our seats back against the tiny back seats, so with big brother and me in it, it looks even smaller, like a Smart. Hah. I call it a zit on the road, and surprisingly it isn’t even all that frugal. It drives about 1 in 10, 9 here in the mountains, while my (former) Land Rover drove a nice 1 in 8 and had a gazillion more horse power. How weird is that? And here folks have been telling me that the newer smaller cars are SOOOOO much more frugal. Nooooo! It’s a lie, not to mention disappointing. Here we thought that by doing a rental we could at least save some of the costs in the fuel. Grrrr.

We’ve had some strangely cloudy weather lately, even a splash of rain, but enough to battle this year’s drought, I fear. Everything is looking abysmally yellow, especially this early in the year, but at least the temps are still nice. There are cool breezes coming in most of the time, meaning that I am now sitting outside in the shade of the eucalypti trees, enjoying an afternoon outside in peace and quiet…for as far as that is possible with Kolossus barking at cars over a mile off. *snort* She likes barking way too much. Hah.

Well, that’s it for today. I will try to write again before actually moving to the Netherlands, but I can’t promise anything. By then I should also know if the operation was a success, since I have an appointment with my doctor four days before my departure…was iffy about being able to get my last appointment in, by the way. Apparently there were no slots free in his appointment book until after the sixth of July, (four days after my departure) but after explaining it all to the receptionist, who then made the effort to contact the doctor and arrange for another appointment at an earlier date (the 29^th, thank you very much) that would allow me to actually make it. Yay.

I’ll keep you posted.

Bummed...

“Madness” a cover by Chester See and Andy Lange. Gorgeous version…so much better than the real version. And appropriate for the past few days.

So I’ve had my operation. I’ve been under the knife. Popped that cherry (there went the perfect record of only having needed to be in hospital for myself during my birth. *sigh*) and am now officially a veteran…well, sorta anyway. Totally not planning on doing that again, if I can do anything about it.

Don’t get me wrong, they were very kind, helpful and professional, but I have definitely had enough of hospitals. Seriously. I gotta ask, what is this weird thing of hospitals and taking off underpants. I ain’t kidding. Here I was, clean undies and everything, appropriately prudish and comfortable in neat bikini briefs, and the first thing they do when I’m semi-conscious is take off my underpants. I was not amused. There you are, barely coherent, worrying about your privates. Sure, I understand that for them it is nothing they haven’t seen, or shall not see again, but to me it is. I don’t show my privates to the public, thank you very much. And boy was there public. Eight or nine people in the operating room, only two or three of them female. I just don’t like it. Prude is my middle name, and I’d like to keep it that way. Grrrr.

Guess what the first thing was I did when I got back to my room?

Anyway, I’m getting ahead of the story. I just had to get that out.

I arrived at the hospital right on the dot, and was taken up to my room in about ten minutes. I had exactly five minutes to go to the little girl’s room before the nurse arrived and told me (very nicely, but firmly) to get in my gown and lie down on the bed. I had just laid down when this, very cute, way too young male nurse arrived to wheel me to the operating room. (Think 20 year-old Brad Pitt, and me at my most attractive—not—in a hospital gown. Aaaargh.) He was also nice, and we chatted a little in a mixture of bad Spanish (me) and bad English (him) on our way down to the surgery. Came across the young fellow who’d brought me to my room…he was all surprised that I was taken to surgery already…and then I was transferred to a bed in the prep room.

Met with the assistant surgeon and the anesthesiologist who started joking with me about my chart saying I did fitness and kickboxing…apparently that’s a strange thing that they never expect round these parts. Don’t see why. One of the best ways to blow of some steam and burn calories.

He assured me that I was going to get the mildest form of an epidural (not the big needle but a small one, that would cover the pain but wouldn’t make me insensitive) and a mild sedative against the stress I was experiencing. You’ll be glad to know that they checked which leg several times, and my identity, my numbers, whether I had allergies, fake teeth and everything. Almost makes you worry that that went wrong a time or two, eh?

Another thing. Everyone asked me how I was doing, and when I admitted to being a little stressed, they would look startled and then assure me that was normal but that I didn’t need to be.

Cliché for sure, but good advice regardless. Hah.

Anyway, I was transferred from the prep bed to the operating table—arched like a bridge for some peculiar reason—and a shield was set up between my head and the rest of my body as my first sedative was administered.  

 It felt a little bit like when you sit in a particularly uncomfortable position for too long and your legs fall asleep. A little tingly and way numb. Weird but better than painful, right?

Though mildly sedated, I remember only the first and the last half hour of the two hour procedure (and the underpants removal, and this particular moment when I felt some fierce burning sensation in my lower leg, after which they gave me another shot of something) the last of which I was apparently busy trying to cover my lower half with a sheet. Hah. Imagine my chagrin, lying there, having some beefy dude, (thankfully together with a young lady) wrapping up my leg and rolling a couple of socks onto my leg. Talk about uncomfortable.

Next came the recovery room where they asked me if I was in any pain, to which I answered some, wondering where this was headed. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, how painful. I told the girl (yes, the nurse was little more than a girl) a 7, maybe and eight, after which she gave me a shot of something.

I gotta admit to being a little panicked, due to the fact that the pain reminded me of way back when, when I burned my upper legs with a couple of gallons of boiling water. It subsided nicely after the shot, and when the girl asked me again some 15 minutes later, I gladly told her that the pain level had gone down to a wonderful 2, or 3 on the scale. No one was more surprised than I when she sighed deeply and gave me another shot. So, apparently, you have to be without ANY pain for her to do her job well. Good to know, because those shots sure messed up my coherency in the hours that followed.

I do remember seeing my doctor at one point (he’s a nice fella. The last time we spoke we had a nice long chat about him taking up fitness for the first time in his life, and discussing the beneficial effects of kick boxing). He told me that it was a good thing we did the operation because the veins he’d treated had been a diameter of 3 quarters of an inch. Good to know I did the right thing, really.

I was returned to my room, and as promised given the choice of going home or staying for the night, depending on how I felt. First things first, though, my underpants…are you noticing that I’m a little hung up on that one? Well, I am. Seriously.

Anyway, big brother was there, waiting for me in my room. Luckily big brother is good at waiting, and entertaining himself with his phone and such. Was much reassured seeing him there after the procedure. Added to that, I was rather hungry, so he got us both something to eat from McDonalds…good thing too, considering the hospital didn’t know I’m vegetarian, so the meal that was brought to me was…well, only partly edible. But I’ll tell you this, after fasting from 10 in the morning, until 9 in the evening, a small package of pineapple juice was absolutely divine. Not to mention the handful of French fries that I managed to choke down.

Was just done when the doc’s assistant arrived and asked me what I wanted to do. At that time, I was sitting up, trying out how that would go.

I was feeling pretty okay, so when he asked I said I’d prefer to go home, to which he agreed.

Had to go to the bathroom first, though. So big brother helped me walk there, no matter how inelegantly. Was feeling just slightly woozy. Did my business, was sitting there, and the next thing I know I was staring at white and grey tiles, wondering, for only a moment, what I was doing at a train station, on the floor (I don’t know where that came from) but then I heard big brother asking me if I was okay, and realized that I must have passed out. Must say I was happy with my training, because it really wasn’t a big problem to get to my feet…foot, while my shoulder hurt like the dickens.

Don’t know what happened, or when, clearly I’d blacked out, so big brother helped me back to bed where I laid down while he went after the doctor to say that I better stay the night after all.

My shoulder was KILLING me during the night. Not when I first dropped into bed, but as the night progressed. I was woken up several times during the night, people asking me if I was alright…in Spanish naturally. Strangely enough, I didn’t even notice. I was pretty out of it, I guess. The only thing I could answer was that I was REALLY really tired. Which I was. Slept for hours, spent about thirty minutes reading around three in the morning, and then fell back to sleep until after six when some boy…seriously, BOY, came to ask me if I needed to go peepee. Not in this life-time. I was  determined to wait for big brother to help me go to the bath room (as in walk me there) but around nine the need became high, so I dared.

First I sat on the side of the bed for about fifteen minutes, then on the couch (there was bed couch in there, which I thought genius) for another ten, before I finally dared to head into the bathroom and did my thing. I persevered! I actually went to the bathroom without passing out, so, Yay! Major victory for me.

Considering that after three times of mentioning that my aching shoulder was really bugging me, and getting some extra pain killers, I gave up trying to mention it and just had big brother help me get dressed and pack up to go home.

In all honesty, the procedure was hardly painful at all. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the shoulder incident, I would have said that it wasn’t a problem at all. It wasn’t and I would definitely advise laser to anyone who needs their varicose vein treated.

As to the shoulder, it got worse as the days past, so today big brother and I went to Trafico (I know, you are wondering where that came from, but this dates back to when we still had the Daewoo. We’ve been paying taxes for it for years, simply because the guy I gave it too, never got around to dealing with writing it out. Had to make an appointment, which was today) where I had to explain the problem and then fill in half a million forms, which was hard with the friggin’ shoulder and the bad leg, until the woman took pity on me and finished filling in the forms for me. Bet she was afraid I was going to pass out right there in front of her desk…which was a viable option, in all honesty.

Luckily the private hospital that I’m allowed to go to with my insurance, didn’t force me to wait for hours and hours and hours. Decided to not risk things (luck hasn’t been on my side lately, as you undoubtedly know) I went to the ER and had Xrays taken of my shoulder (no breaks, thank you very much) just a lot of swelling due to inflammation. In the end I just got a prescription for anti inflammatory and painkillers…not much point to those, since I’m already taking Ibuprofen, but you gotta give them points for trying. That worry taken care of we went back home in the rental…

Right, the rental. You didn’t know about that one yet, did you? Well, considering we are wanting to sell the Land Rover, and since it needs some minor repairs and fixings, we decided to rent this tiny zit of a car to get us around for the next of the month. The way we figure it’ll save enough in fuel to practically pay for itself, so that is one worry less. It’s a Fiat 500, and we both fit in it, as long as we push the front seats up against the back. Hah. It has been our savior this past week, in particular due to my hospital visits and all the other stuff that needed arranging…and still does. The days have been insane. On the overall we’re out an average of 6 to 7 hours a day, arranging stuff, and the remaining hours are spent taking care of the dogs, doing the minimal amount of cleaning in our rooms and kitchen, while still trying to get some “clearing” done. Luckily the younger sibs did pitch in with cleaning up the last storage room by the house. Regretfully they weren’t very selective, meaning that lots of stuff got tossed which could have saved them a lot of money in the future whenever they needed to fix something. But, whatever, they’ll have to cross that bridge when they get there. I’ve got other stuff to worry about, least of all being sorting through my clothes and picking what to take with me.

Not such a hard choice anymore. Anything that was remotely important (kindergarten drawings, my first hand written sentence, sculptures that I took along to Spain almost twenty years ago, first drafts of my books) was already gone due to the big disaster. Strange how this last bit…including the Land Rover, I admit, I’m finding that extremely hard…hurts just as much as the rest. You’d think you develop a certain numbness, but for some reason you don’t.

Oddly enough I have heard of many people lately the well-meant advice, “Don’t gather clutter, Sam, you’ll only get frustrated from not knowing what to do with it. It is much better to have an uncluttered life.” I guess it is different when you are not doing it by choice, but rather the lack of it. Personally I find it intensely painful, but that’s me, I guess. I wouldn’t mind taking along a little bit of clutter. Hah.

Ah well, no sense in wallowing, right? Can’t change the facts, so I rather not care, if you don’t mind. Hmmm. Is that too much sarcasm in my tone? I’ll try to restrain myself, I’m feeling a tad out of sorts lately, so you’ll have to excuse me. *sigh*

Nice bit…went to dinner with our friend T tonight. Big brother cooked, which was a big success…which is so good for his confidence. First relaxing evening, just talking, eating, drinking a little, in months, and as an added bonus T is going to help us find a home for Tadaika. Our girl behaved beautifully tonight. She was polite, didn’t make a mess, and smiled for the camera, so to speak. We were very proud.

Did another trip for the Safari tours (actually took some pictures, yay…but you’re not going to see them because I’m lazy, and it is late, and it would take way too long to load them here. Sorry.) which went to Ronda this time. Saw the old ruins, only made one tiny mistake for a change, and the customers seemed to have enjoyed themselves, which counts. In the end that is all that matters, really, and they were nice, which was good for me. Always a pleasure to have good customers. These were Canadians, and they were very enthusiastic about the whole thing. Still have to send them some pictures of the trip, because I promised I would. The whole operation thing stopped me from doing so, however. Was nice seeing Ronda and all the historical sights there. As an added bonus I got to spent time with a bunch of grumpy old men (remember the movie with Jack Lemon and Walter Matthau?) bickering together like a bunch of high school kids. Seriously, it is fascinating. Four men behaving like small kids. Like throwing rubbish into the car of one of their colleagues, just to tease him. I was asked to join in, but laughingly told them that I was way too mature for that sort of thing. Luckily they could appreciate the joke. All in all, I had fun.

What else, there was some cooking (of course) cleaning, and all that basic stuff like cutting dog food, feeding them, etc.

Had a nice chat with my doctor, who has recently started doing fitness (surprised me too) and we got to talking about how I was really enjoying mine and that it can be addicting. He was also really interested in kick boxing, so I wonder if he is going to pick that up at some point. Would be fun if I talked a doctor into doing kick boxing. Hah.

Well, this it for me, really. Gotta call it a blog. Almost two in the morning, and I definitely, definitely need my beauty sleep. You’d be amazed at how quickly you get tired when you’ve got a bum leg and a bum shoulder. *sigh*

Momentous decision

Song of the day: “Born this way” by Weird Al Yankovich. What can I say, I’m in a really, really strange mood.

So, I would like to say that all is well at the moment, but it isn’t not really. Since I got back, I’ve had maybe one day that I didn’t need to go anywhere, meaning that I feel seriously stressed out. Can’t be helped at the moment, I fear, but it is starting to take it’s toll.

What can possibly have taken so much time that two weeks have flown by, I hear you wonder. Seriously, you do not want to know how often I’ve visited my insurance agent (she was a darling, I tell ya, but I really don’t need to see her that often) went to the garage, a lawyer (on the assistance of my mechanic) and all for…naught, really. Yes, they finally agreed that I was entitled to 600 bucks for towing (yay) the car to the garage of my choice, only downside was that already 232 of that was already spent on towing the Trooper to the French garage where it had been stored (for a whopping 8.50 per day) for the past two weeks or so. So that meant that from the moment I made the decision to take the car back to Spain, I would have needed to pay that myself, and since I would then have to arrange for the tow to actually happen so much money would go down the drain that in the end we just had to give up on the Trooper and let it go. So, figuring that the insurance is not going to waste more time and money either, the poor Trooper is probably junk now. Such a pity. 

Moving on, and all that, I find is very difficult at the moment, but we are. What with the losses of funds due to the disastrous trip, the car’s break down and consequent loss, and all those little things that have been eating at what is left of our savings, big brother and I have both come to a momentous decision: Within a few months, we will be moving back to the Netherlands.
 

Yep. For the both of us, the Spanish adventure has definitely come to an end…and added to that we are going to have to find work, which is not something we feel we can do here in these troubled times; at least not enough to make a difference in the way of life that we’ve all been used to. Changes are going to have to be made, the biggest of which being the dogs.

We’ll be looking for homes for some of them, while the rest of them are going to be staying here with mom and the younger sibs, who have decided that they want to stay here and make a go of it. So for the time being big brother and I will be trying to send some money home every month and hope that it will be enough to tide them over until the younger sibs have found work.

Talking of the dogs, we lost Jelly and Matti this past month, the first of old age, and the latter had to be put down because little brother found him in serious agony one morning, basically incapable of movement. Some serious tests later, it turned out that he had a degenerative disease in his spine that made the disks grow out of shape until it paralyzed him. Scary thought that. Had never heard of something like it before.

Also had a big scare with Clue the other day. Big brother were on our way out of the house when the silly dog decided to jump out the window (about 5 foot high) and somehow managed to land wrong. He was lying there, seemingly completely paralyzed, blood on the floor around his head, and his breathing shallow, looking more like some sort of spasm. We seriously feared that he’d snapped his spine, and were more than a little weary about doing anything. So I went to get the Land Rover while big brother and middle sister carefully slid him onto a wooden board.

Next we carried him out, and rushed him to the vet, fully expecting to have to put him down.
Strangely enough, about half way there, he was raising his head, a few blocks away he was trying to sit up, and by the time we got to the vet he was walking again…albeit wobbly, and more cheerful than a drunk who won the lottery. The vet couldn’t find anything wrong with him, thankfully, but did put him on an anti-inflammatory and diuretics because it was clear that he knocked himself out hard enough to almost croak. He seemed drunk and extremely happy for several days, but has slowly turned back to his serious self. At least he’s okay.

We have been working constantly on the Land Rover. Now that we have made this decision we really need to sell it, for so many reasons that…well, no matter the reason, there really is not much of a choice. It feels like I’m losing the last thing (besides the dogs who are not things, thank you very much) that was a part of life here in Spain, so that is hard. Will have to get over it. If for no other reason than that there is no time to mourn it all. We’ve got our tickets arranged and they’re set for mid-July. Fast, eh?

No sense in postponing the inevitable, I guess.

Another thing that kept us busy is figuring out all that needs doing once we’re back there. There are long lists of places we need to go, folks we need to talk to, and of course finding a place to live. At first Cousin Ed and Tenant will be there to “catch” us, so to speak, but that should only be temporary, of course. Can’t mooch off them, despite their assurances that they’d love to have us there. Everyone needs their own space.

In regard to my varicose vein, I went to see a surgeon and heard the disturbing news that to get lasered the whole thing would cost a 1000 bucks, which I don’t have, of course. But Cousin Ed has offered to loan me the money for the operation, so I’ve told my doctor to proceed with the arrangements. Monday I will have my pre-op exams, and that same evening I will meet with the surgeon again, at which time we will talk about the whole procedure and get it all sorted. They think that we can get it all done within a couple of weeks, so let’s hope that it works out. That way I can have it all done before moving away from Spain.

Grandpa has slowly recovered from the trip somewhat, slowly getting used to a very different way of life. There are often times that he doesn’t know what to do with himself, so I have suggested that he go along with Tenant to her “daycare” meetings and see what that is all about and whether he would enjoy something like that. I just hope that he can find himself some sort of purpose over there.

Been going to the gym, of course, an average of four to five days a week, regretfully not with T, who has been too busy, which has been my saving grace really. I would have gone nutters without those workouts, that is a fact. This is definitely not an easy decision to take, but what can you do, really. Sometimes you have to let go and see where life takes you, rather than grittily holding onto that which you know.

Well, more has happened of course, but it is late once again, and I HAVE hit the highlights, so I’m

going to leave it at this. I need a glass of wine and then I’m off to bed.

Bad luck? Again?

Song of the day: “Disturbia” by Rihanna. Perfectly fine song describe the past week.

So much has changed, and so much is going to change, that thinking of how to write all this up was a bit daunting…not so much the coming disaster thing you’re going to read about, but everything around it, the consequences; they are profound.

First off, grandpa was feeling poorly last week, again, so we took him to the doctor, who told him that his heart murmur had gotten considerably worse and that he would do a lot better to have himself admitted in hospital for two or three days so he could get checked out. Now, you know grandpa, ever since the horrors with tenant and Sally, he’s been avoiding the Spanish hospitals like the plague, and I can’t say I blame him. I’m doing the same. Apparently it is still a trauma for all of us.

Be that as it may, on the way home we talked about it, and decided that big brother was going to fly to the Netherlands with him, where he’d be able to stay with tenant and Cousin Ed, who were more than willing to play hostess to his needs in this uncertain time. So it was arranged, grandpa had to visit his doctor again in the morning, and we’d have to stock up one some things so I wouldn’t need to go out all the time while they were both gone, and we bought the tickets.

We shouldn’t have. Apparently grandpa hadn’t heard that his doctor wanted to see him the next morning again to check if he would be able to fly…he couldn’t, so we landed into quite a pickle there, with least of the problems being that it is almost impossible to get a refund for tickets at that particular airline.

But alright, no sense in lingering on done matters, we had to think of a solution, and the only one was to take the Isuzu and drive the odd 2300 km. More arranging followed, but that same evening, at around eight, we were packed and ready to go. There was some discussion about whether or not Grandpa should take his dog Ollie. It’s a tiny little thing, 13 years old, and they are both rather attached to each other. We were balancing precariously between Ollie being a reason for grandpa to “keep going”, or being a burden, but after checking with tenant and Cousin Ed, who were more than willing to provide a home for Ollie should the worst happen, Grandpa decided to take him.

We left at eight in the evening, figuring we should be able to cross Spain during the night, with as little as possible traffic. We drove straight through, all went swell, despite a small “lost” moment in the middle of a thankfully sleeping Madrid, and we made good time, reaching the border at about noon the next day. We went straight into France where we pondered taking small roads (to save a buck or two by going around the toll roads) but decided to go for speed because grandpa wasn't doing well at all. I sometimes wonder if sickness can change people’s characters, because  I had never heard him complain as much as he did during the first leg of the trip. The bed in the back of the car was a little short, the rumbling car prevented him from sleeping, sitting was too this and that, the list was endless, and admittedly it set my teeth on edge since there wasn’t anything that we could do about it.

Had just let mom know that we were making good time, and that the car was going a splendid steady 100 mp when about 40 under Bordeaux, the engine started to make a suspicious sound. Looked like our luck had run out, within moments of listening, the sound started to get worse. We were on the toll highway, meaning fast traffic, so big brother took the first turnoff so we could check what was up. First we feared no oil, but there was enough, and after adding a bit, it turned out there was still a sufficient amount in there. Cooling liquid: same. So we tried again, for about thirty seconds the engine sounded normal, but then we had to pull over on a dirt road because it got worse again.

So there we were, in a nature reserve, of all places, at least an hour's walking distance from two towns (splat in the middle) with a sick grandpa in the back, and in a country where we didn't know the language at all. Did manage to flag a couple down who spoke a few words of Spanish. The married couple offered to drive big brother to the nearest town, and then the other, but by that time I had, by some miracle reached travel assistance in Spain (and they had an English department) who had managed to figure out from my explanation where we were, more or less.

Then the waiting started, with grandpa sickly in the back, and more phone calls were made when the one promised hour turned in two, and then three until the tow truck finally found us. He listened to the engine for about 2 seconds and declared it "Kaput", so he loaded us and the car up and drove us 20 miles east to the garage he worked for.

Y'all will be happy to know that due to some sort of holiday everything was closed, naturally. We would hear the official verdict until Monday, so there was more waiting as the insurance company started to arrange for a taxi and a hotel for the night. Not that we could do anything during this time. We were waiting in this tiny little garage, pacing while grandpa looked worse for wear.

Another three hours later the taxi finally turned up, and the driver had to wait with us for another half hour before we got the information about our accomodations for the night. Not easy to find a hotel for three people and a dog at the last possible moment.

So later that night, us keeping a wary and weary eye on grandpa and 24 hours into the trip, and 36 hours awake, without more than a few cat naps, another call with the insurance company made clear that the only thing that was covered in the insurance, was the destruction of the car in France and my and my companions' return to Spain...not our destination! Aaaaaargh. And the only way to get back to Spain was by plane, which grandpa wasn't allowed to do! I lost it there for a bit.

Seriously, my brain just shorted for several minutes. There we were, halfway there, grandpa a ghost of himself, big brother and me exhausted, and no solution. Couldn't find any words. But anyway, more talk finally got us in an agreement that I would get reimbursement for whichever way we went, for the equivalent that would have brought us home...which, due to the holiday was quite a bit, thankfully, considering that if we opted (according to the insurance our best option) to go by train it would be 300 bucks a head to reach Amsterdam, some odd 200 miles from our destination. That wouldn’t do. Grandpa would not be able to handle sitting that long, and then transferring trains in Paris, which means that you have to go from one station, across town to another, by foot or really expensive taxi…with way too much luggage, and a small dog. It was a pickle.

By then I just thanked them, tried to stop thinking and conked out for 6 hours. As the final arrangement by the insurance (I am infinitely grateful to their efforts, because regardless of all the bad news...we only had basic insurance...they did save our butts) a taxi picked us up and drove us to the train station in Bordeaux where we managed to rent a "limitless mileage" rental for a whopping 900 bucks, that should (cross our fingers, knock on wood, etc) get us the rest of the way.

But seriously, we were literally exactly in the middle of the trip, almost spot on the mile. How weird is that? If I were to believe in shaite like that, I would have thought that something didn’t want us to get grandpa to a safe place.

Be that as it may, I did manage to get the rental, and by some miracle there was enough money on my credit card. Then, of course, it started to rain the moment we got in the rental, started to pour buckets by the time we were 60 miles from Poitiers, which is when the traffic jams started. Yep! We could laugh about it by then…a little anyway.

I had to do most of the driving, considering the rental was only in my name. Stupidly I didn't think to add big brother, so he could only do a couple of quiet stretches between big cities, giving me an hour's rest here and there. Didn’t manage to sleep, but honestly by then I was past the tiredness and had shot straight into wide-awake exhaustion. It kept raining, and grandpa wasn't improving. We were starting to be afraid to pull over at gas stations because every time he got out the car he looked like he was going to keel over.

Another traffic jam started about 30 miles before Paris, so rather than risk it, we swerved the long way round. Had a very short pit stop at the Mc D then for some hot "fuel", but then we went on asap. By then we were so worried we just wanted to get across the border where at least they spoke Grandpa's language, in case we had to go straight to hospital.

Rain finally stopped around midnight, near Lille, and from there we shot across the border into Belgium where I got about an hour's sleep while big brother raced the empty highways.

Arrived at our destination just before four in the morning, where we phoned emergency services, and headed for hospital where grandpa was admitted.

Thankfully we didn't end up in the ER like he would have over here, but was send straight through to cardiology, where they put him in a room, started on the questions of the symptoms and the tests. There was indeed a rather severe murmur in his heart, and liquid behind his lungs explaining his lack of breath, so we might as well head on out to the place we were staying and phone later about the results.

Didn't get to bed until 8 in the morning, and was up again an hour and a half later to get on the phone with the rental's customer service, (holiday, so there was no way to reach the office) the insurance company, and all those other pesky little details like trying (and failing) to get me an affordable ticket back to Spain, in time to get me back in time for my job. Thankfully they have been very understanding about the whole thing, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that everything will be okay in that corner.

Wasn't able to book anything until Thursday, so that got my panic higher, considering I had promised to be home Monday because mom and the sibs were taking care of our dogs. Called home to ask if everything was okay, and that I couldn’t find anything affordable until Thursday, but thankfully all was well at home.

Seriously, I do not know what the heck is going on lately, but luck is not on our side. Jeeez.

Which reminds me, did I mention the last time that we had two dogs in hospital (on a Sunday no less). Cousin Ed’s Niobe, had his paw ripped open by one of the other dogs, and Abacara, (remember the small golden retriever I mentioned some weeks ago that we were worried about because she was losing weight?) had a uterus infection, so they both stayed in for surgery. Had a whopping bill for that, naturally. Remember those changes I mentioned at the beginning of the blog? We’re going to have to be extremely selective in the future about what kind of procedures we can have done for the dogs and what not, because that is just something that we can’t afford anymore with grandpa gone.

Another bit of bad news that happened while we were gone with grandpa, was that little brother had to have his Labrador put down. Poor darling had a disease that caused his spinal disks to grow out of shape, until finally it got to him last week. They found him on the bed, in pain and unable to move, so there really wasn’t any choice.

But back to the trip. We spent our time at Tenant’s and cousin Ed’s, part of it prepping the pantry, by changing it into a bedroom for grandpa. Turns out he’s going to have to stay with them for quite some time while all the necessary tests are done. There is a spare bedroom, but the stairs are too hard for him at the moment, despite the medication. Luckily the pantry was pretty big, and it would give him some privacy at the back of the house at least.

He’s probably going to need open heart surgery, because two valves are leaking now, meaning that recovering is going to be a long slow road for him. Worst of it is, the way things are looking, it is a big question whether he can ever come back. He’s going to need a lot of care, and what with us “roughing it” in the wild…it won’t do, because there is just no way for us in an emergency to get him over there again. I mean, this trip, with the loss of the car, was basically all the money we managed to save with our jobs this past year, we’re about 4 inches from flat broke. I’m just keeping my fingers crossed that we get some money back from the insurance. It looks grim, and unsolvable, unless there is some miracle, but thus are the facts and we will have to live with them.

We’ll have to see, I suppose, you just never know.

As to starting on solving things. Big brother and I did a lot of talking over there, while we waited for my return trip. We have looked at options, and of course there are some, but none of them are going to be easy, if for no other thing than that they will change life as we know it. We have some time to get it all sorted, and change is just that, change. It is only awful if you let it be, isn’t it? For now, I’m going to let everything go, my expectations, my hopes, and just see where life flows to, so to speak. I’m tired of all the holding on to the tiny little bits everywhere, and I have once again reached that point where I feel hollowed out, with nothing left to give.

I mean, as I sit here with our dogs (they were naturally ecstatic with my return) I can’t even really enjoy it, because at the moment they are a problem that needs solving, or else suffering lies in the future, and that is a most horrible feeling. But like I said, things are going to change. They have to. There is no other choice. The money we had saved so that we could hold out for the remainder of their years, is basically gone, grandpa’s pension, which helped a lot in this time where jobs are sparse, is out of the picture for the time being, and even though I would like to do magic, I can’t. In the end you can only do so much. But we’ll get back to this mess later on. Can’t think of it now. Too many immediate things to think about still.

My flight home was uneventful, thankfully, and mom picked me up. First past the insurance to arrange the paperwork, then home. Spent about an hour with the dogs outside on the old paddock. Just sat there and had them crawl all over me one after the other, rubbing their heads into whatever part of me they could find, until they finally settled down.

The rest of the day was a blur of exhaustion, and when I finally fell into bed, I passed out rather than slept, really. It has been an emotional roller coaster for sure.

Was up again just after seven to head to town for all the necessary arrangements. Though there was enough money on my creditcard when they checked for the rental, our insurance withdrew their monthly due a day later, and we had to buy me a tickets, so I had to deposit the money.

Next was a visit to grandpa’s GP, who thankfully agreed to write a note saying that grandpa was unfit to travel by plane, so maybe that will help to get a refund. Then I had to make an appointment for the Land Rover. Nothing serious, but the fuel gage doesn’t work, and it needs to be fixed. Then the other garage for the Isuzu, where I talked for a long time with our mechanic. He was shocked that the engine quit on us, and was outraged that the French mechanic had declared it “dead”. He’s pretty convinced that we should be able to get the car towed here through the insurance, regardless of what they’re saying. He had an insurance agent friend of his look at the contract and according him, they owe us the amount it takes to get it here.

So I’m going to visit a lawyer on Monday (I hate it, because except for the car they did help us out in our time of need) and see what comes from that. I mean, even if the engine is broken (we did push it hard, which supposedly isn’t good for old cars…and now, after everything, I do remember our mechanics warning us for that when we still pondered driving it to the UK. We were supposed to make plenty of stops to allow it to cool down. But in our fear for grandpa’s health, we forgot that.) we have time. We can wait until we can find a 2^nd hand engine on Ebay or some such place for a bargain and replace it. It’ll be cheaper than another car, and it will allow us to fix up, and sell the Land Rover after all.

Keep your fingers crossed. At the moment I think it is a matter of honor for our mechanic who took care of that car for 12 years. He’s been spending his afternoon and weekend looking into the matter and arranging for the lawyer.

We’ll see.

Anyway, all the arranging took a cozy six hours, meaning I was beat, and needed a nap so bad that I couldn't sleep a wink, of course. Hah.

Been busy making dog food, getting old bread and veggies from our usual spots, which is time consuming. Did manage to get to the gym last night, which was truly necessary. I pumped some serious iron, and kicked the heck out of the boxing bag, which soothed me considerably. Slept like a baby after that.

Which brings us to today. Finally some time to unwind, although the tension is still there just simmering under the surface. Have been out in the sunshine with the dogs, though, and they are extremely content, which is also soothing.

That’s about it, for now. I will keep you posted.