I wake as usual to the shrieking alarm, finding my sciatica nerve playing up again by the time I get to my feet and head for the door to let the dogs out. It doesn’t look pretty, I assure you, as I stretch and turn, hoping to get the nerve un-pinched while I slowly go through the morning rituals, dragging my butt ‘till I get down to the house almost an hour late. I abhor being late, but everyone seems to be late today, so I really can’t beat myself up about it. Hah.
Knowing this particular problem (the back/hip thing) from years of chiropractor visits, I’ve found that movements, carefully executed, paying close attention to doing them “right” will at some point put the spinal disks back in place, and therefore I start my workout as soon as I get to the house and deposit my bag on the old kitchen counter.
I’m first again, but since the weather is considerably mild, compared to the past week or so, I don’t mind the fact that the heaters aren’t on yet while I slip into my exercise clothes and get to it.
Warming up is uncomfortable, but slowly, as my muscles begin to heat up from the movements, the whiny electricity-like pulse going through my left hip becomes bearable enough for me to move on to the punching bag.
Aches and complaints of the body frustrate me, so I get to pour out quite a bit of that as the poor bag swings back and forth, multiplying the teeth jarring collision with every punch. Big brother comes down by this time, helpfully keeping the punching bag in place as I go through the rapid jab-jab that is doing marvels on my abdominal muscles for sure.
Perspiration pours liberally halfway through the session, making it drip down my face when I switch over to the kicks that make something pop in my hip at last. For a moment there the discomfort is gone, allowing me to continue on with the workout top-speed before it is finally time to cool down again.
Stretches, crunches and some mild weightlifting wrap up the session, and I’m breathing heavily until, with some more stretches, at long last the tightness between my shoulder blades disappears.
Due to the speed with which I went through the routines, today’s workout took only forty minutes, allowing me to head for the shower when mom and grandpa arrive and settle around the kitchen table for breakfast.
After I’ve dealt with the day’s laundry, I follow suit, knowing with the first bite that my stomach is going to give me trouble again today.
With my coffee beside me, watered down considerably in regard to my stomach, I switch on the computer and go through the day’s messages. Only a few again, which is good, considering big brother and I are determined to work on the short story today.
We are three pages into an edit session–just to get ourselves back into the story–when little sister comes down the stairs with one of her black and white Cocker Spaniels in her arms. Poor Djoti is looking mighty miserable and after a quick look-over it is decided that he needs to go to the vet, because his eye (he’s been going blind for about six months now) is obviously paining him too much to let it slide.
Half a page later it is time to leave and we head for the car and away from the property to travel down the familiar road to the village. A nasty bump in the badly maintained road, pops whatever the workout had set right, back to its previous position, making my left hip and leg whine it’s protest.
We’ve had this problem–cataract eyes–with the dogs before. Several of our Cocker Spaniels have the cataract issue playing up halfway through their life, and most of them come from the same breeder. (We took them when he couldn’t find buyers for them.) Faulty breeding, it shows itself in all shapes and forms. Even our last bobtail, which also came from the same place and under the same circumstances, has eye problems, and is slowly turning blind, way before his time.
Still, what with Djoti being only nine years old yet, it is a treatable condition that involves taking out the eye and sewing it shut.
Sita, our ten-year-old black Cocker Spaniel, had the same procedure two years ago, and though she can hardly see anything now, she is still walking around, content about finding her own way in a place, which she knows by memory and smell. It will be the same for Djoti in the end, we’re sure.
Besides, he’s practically attached to little sister anyway. There won’t be much difference for him in the end, since he absolutely loves being carried around.
So, we get at the veterinary hospital around seven in the evening, explaining the problem to the young intern, and telling her what most likely needs to be done. It becomes clear that she is unaware of the procedure and wishes to keep Djoti there ‘till nine, for when her boss pops in. He’ll only be in today, before he leaves for the weekend, so we quickly agree, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.
Agreeing to return around nine, we head back home.
Little sister is looking worried, and I try to reassure her by reminding her of Sita, who is devoted to her and little brother to say the least. Whenever mom’s not around, the blind Cocker follows them around like a shadow, and is living a pleasant life even with one eye gone and the other no longer functioning.
With that she seems to calm somewhat, and departs to do her own thing upstairs from the main living area.
Arriving in the house, the canine monsters once again assaulting me, I find younger sister on top of the counter, putting the second layer of paint on the raised section for the kitchen, and smile my pleasure, since now I won’t need to do that particular chore.
It looks good, I admit, thinking once again that we made an excellent choice for the color. It’s a deep wine-red that goes really well with the lazuli blue and light blue tiles that will be added at some time in the near future.
While I reheat last night’s dinner and add some extra ingredients so everyone can eat a decent portion, we all settle in for the short wait until we can go back to the hospital to hear the verdict.
We’re just watching something lame on TV–it doesn’t even register–half an hour before we’re to depart, when the phone rings. It’s the vet assistant, and through a connection that is always iffy, she informs me that we were right and that Djoti’s eye needs to be surgically removed.
We are so lucky with our vet. Even though he is scheduled to leave tonight for his vacation, he offers to do the operation tonight, rather than Tuesday when he returns, and with some relief I give a verbal agreement to the procedure. With a little luck we can come back to pick the poor dog up tomorrow.
That dealt with, I really can’t muster up the energy to get up from my seat, and lounge in front of a recorded episode of “Dexter”. Trin Trin and Dax absolutely insist on crawling on my lap as I sit there, sciatica making me shift uncomfortably from time to time, until the warmth of the two dogs on my lap and several others at my feet finally takes effect. I doze off…only to find myself waking up half an hour into Smallville, which big brother’s watching.
I missed the last twenty minutes of “Dexter”, but since my mind is not at all on TV these days, I don’t really mind as I shake sleep from my brain and head for the kitchen to see what’s to be done next. I’ve just taken the time to give Chaos a good petting–he jumped up against me the moment I got to the kitchen and he realized I was awake– when my stomach starts its uproar. This forces me to nudge my way past the other dogs that came running for a petting and hurry towards the bathroom to discard the cookie I’d consumed on my way to the kitchen.
Luckily most of dinner was already processed (I hope so, at least) by this time, making the session over the toilet a short one before I head back for the kitchen and pop some gum in my mouth.
The side covers, I decide, upon examining the counters, asking little brother to go up to the carport to get the leftover parts of the counter, which I’m going to have cut to size if they’re going to fit.
I swear colorfully when I find that I won’t be able to cut two parts out of one piece of the material, and glare at the leftover piece that is just three inches too short for this particular plan.
Big brother joins me by then, and we debate our options…I really don’t want to use both pieces since I want to utilize one for a small eating area once everything is done…when genius strikes again. The section we cut from the counter to place the stove should fit. So, once I’ve located it in the spare courtyard room, I’m delighted to find that it is exactly the size we need in order to cover up one side of the drawer casing. It barely needs any work before I hand the piece over to younger sister for painting. The cut edges need to be protected, and she does them with a nod while I set to work on sawing off the second piece.
While big brother resumes hooking up the faucet of the second sink, and younger sister starts on painting the edges of the second cover plate, I call little brother downstairs so he can help me put the first finished up.
Though he is busy on some sort of project on his computer, he doesn’t complain, knowing full well that if he doesn’t come to help, little sister is bound to–even though she has a headache, poor thing.
Half an hour later, I step back from the latest finishing touch to the counter, and nod my approval at the sight. It looks good, and what with the strong plastic rustico-style layer on the boards I’ve just attached it will be so very easy to keep clean.
That done, little brother heads back upstairs, while younger sister and I apply the last layer of paint to what will be the raised section/bar of the counter. Big brother is just about done with the faucet by then, but someone will need to crawl underneath the counter, once more, to screw in the final two screws that are to keep the oak pedestal underneath the tap in place. We’re all sort of looking at each other, waiting for someone to volunteer, when little sister comes down and offers to do the honors.
Her headache’s abated with the help of a painkiller, and what with her being petite, she easily disappears underneath the counter to drill holes and attach the oak wood to the counter.
By then, younger sister and I are done with painting, and together we all clean up the day’s mess, before my stomach demands some sustenance, prior to departing for my cabin.
Careful to keep the snack bland and small, I stand at the NEW counter, watching the younger sibs start on their own snacks at the stove and microwave, before I let the dogs out of the courtyard and follow them up the mountain.
My stomach gives some protests along the way, but now, two hours later I’m pleased to notice that it’s all going to stay where it’s supposed to be.
The vet hasn’t called, so that means that the operation went well–I hope– and we can all go to bed without too much worries for little Djoti, who’s probably still in deep sleep from the anesthetic, and snoozing the night away.
I am tired, both physically and mentally, and with a little luck, I’ll actually be tired enough to get in an early night before tomorrow arrives.
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