Predictions and diagnosis....

Why, hello there old blog, I haven't written since June! I've had a lot on my plate. I had to move out of a house that I lived in for nearly 17 years... can you imagine? Does anyone out there know or remember what that feels like? It was a huge job, and although I had friends and loved ones around to help me, it was still huge. Emotionally and physically.
Last time I wrote it was about DJ being diagnosed with lung cancer. The vet said she would have 2 months at best. She is still here with me, 5 months later, although lately she's showing signs of a decline. She's lost a ton of weight and she's all skin and bones. She strains to breathe, and she sounds like she's filled with water on the inside. When she meows, its more like a sputter and some groans. She lets nearly everyone pet her now, even small children, which is sooooo not like her. On the other hand, she purrs and seems happy whenever you do pet her. Maybe she knows she will soon be with my mom. I don't know, but it worries and saddens me. Since she's a cat, she cannot speak to me to tell me if she is in pain or not. Her changed behavior makes me feel suspect. I watch her when I can and try to make her feel ok. She's still eating... but I am surprised at that. She looks bad.

I have been in this weird limbo, living with only part of my belongings in a home with some friends for the past few months, (the rest of my things in storage) and a marriage in this house that is trying to salvage, I just try to stay out of the way. I want this family to mend and I wouldn't mind moving along, it's hopeful to see them coming back together, especially with a 2 year old, but SB rents are horrific... and I hate moving. I've been looking and I don't see much out there that encourages me. Seems like anything I take will be a gigantic lifestyle change, and not for the better. I don't want to move until after the new year at least... I hope.

I worry a lot about having a sick pet on top of it all, especially one that is highly sensitive to changes, and one that I made a promise to care for. DJ means a lot to me, because she was my mom's favorite thing, and I want her to be safe and as comfortable as can be.

Another broken link

Before my mom died, when she was very sick, I promised her I would take care of her cat, DJ. She loved this cat more than anything. My brother and I used to joke that she loved the cat more than she loved us. So the time came when DJ became my responsibility. DJ is neurotic in the literal sense. She's high strung and hisses and growls about 100 times a day. She was one of those pets who only loved her master, (and she is a pet only her master could love!). In the absence of my mother she has been thrown into a world of stress. She HATES my cat, (who is her half sister) and she only will begrudgingly let me pet her for a moment or two before she is done with me too. It has taken me a very long time to get her acclimated here.

My mother never had DJ spayed, so great was her love for this animal, she was dreadfully afraid of anything happening to her under the anesthesia (!!!). Naturally I had this done as soon as she became my cat. It was not a simple operation anymore because by this time DJ was about 11 years old. The vet found a golf ball sized tumor on one of her ovaries, the biggest one he'd ever seen, he said. It was just in time. I was hoping that after the surgery she would calm down and mellow out. Without the hormones coursing through her body and without going into heat every few months, she'd become calm and happy. Nope. She didn't change at all, her hair just got longer and thicker. She was still the same old head case of a cat. Neurotic to the core.

About a month ago she started to cough. It was a rough cough, and didn't go away, so this morning I finally got her to the vet. They examined her and took X-rays of her chest. The vet came back with the initial diagnosis of lung cancer. I was stunned.
Thank God my poor mama wasn't here to get that news, it would have killed her. She was so emotional when it came to the family pets. I am too, but she really loved this cat. DJ was her baby. Part of the family. I was just in shock. I expected a simple cold and some kitty antibiotics, and yet here was this nasty news. No. Not another thing. Not one more. They say God only gives you what you can handle, and if that is so, I wonder what He's doing to me because I just can't take anymore bad news. I can't. I didn't realize how much I cared for DJ. This rotten hissing unfortunate beast of a cat... and yet I love her. I love her because she was my mom's favorite thing. And now, in the face of losing her, I am reminded again how much my mom isn't here, she's not coming back and the things she loved and that touched her are slowly disappearing too. It's another broken link to the time when I could still talk to her, hug her, call out "mom". This news today knocked me down.
Poor DJ.
I'm hoping it will turn out to not be cancer, but it doesn't look good. If it is she will only have a couple of months at best. I will be so very sad to see her go. I hate the thought of it so much! And here it is, time for me to move out of my beloved home... there is a chance I'll be floating around for a month or two while I am in between houses. This is not a good scenario with an aging sick cat with cancer! I am so afraid of what the next few months will bring! What will I DO if I do not have a new home come August 1st????

All glued up

As some of you might know, I've lived in this same house for 17 years, on and off. It's home, a place where I put down roots. Two days ago I received notice that I will have to move out by August 1st. I was stunned. A notice to move is a bummer for most people, an annoyance, a pain in the ass, but it's monumental to me. A huge life change. Stability is a major theme in my life, and I've strived for it, fought for it, despite the odds I was dealt growing up. I've also enjoyed cheap rent for all these years, enabling me to save up for a down payment on my own house one day, but the prices in Santa Barbara have left me behind. It won't happen for me here unless I find a miracle, and now I face a double in rent at least.

Looking around the house I've noticed how much stuff can accumulate in 17 years, and I'm a packrat. I've got furniture, art supplies, art, records, clothing and knick-knacks enough to fill my own 3 bedroom house! I have a relationship with my stuff. I know I'm going to have to trim it down by nearly half when I leave. While I know this will be liberating, I am dreading it.
I've been thinking about these things for 3 days now.

Today in the shower I used the last of one of my mom's bottles of shampoo. When I cleared out her house after she died I took things home with me, things I could use, like her household items and some cherished photos and mementos. The rest I was forced to dispose of. It was difficult. Over the last year and a half the shampoo bottles have been in my shower. I use them sparingly, careful not to get to the end. The thought of using them up and throwing them away makes me unbelievably sad.
Maybe it's because it was hers and she used it, I still had some sort of link to her that wasn't gone yet. Her hands touched this bottle... so that means I cannot be too far from her in time, right? This is the same logic that applies when one balls up a piece of paper to throw in the wastebasket and they think, 'If this makes it in the basket he/she will love me...'. Who hasn't thought that way once or twice in their life? I do not want the time to pass when I had her in my life. I don't want her shampoo to be gone because she'll never give me anything again that her lovely hands touched. I want to be closer to that time, not further away. It is a faulty logic, but one I cannot shed.
Now I've got to go through all my stuff. Have a gargage sale. Sell off pieces of me. Shed that skin, that time. I know it will help me to move into the future, but what if I don't want to? What if I want to go back in time instead? It seems safer and happier back then. The last few years have proven that to me. Heading into the future doesn't seem like a lot of fun. When did that happen to me? I never used to think that way. I've lost far too much. Maybe that's why I hang on so tightly to my stuff. Well, the time has really come for me to let GO. I've spent time with friends who have lost parents, children, spouses, and they are doing well. They lifted me up and inspired me, but soon after I am left again with my own thoughts and they seem to go to a dark place.

If there is a such thing as energy flow, mine has been all glued up for some time. No in with the good (new), out with the bad (old). Nothing but sticky black grief, fear and regret. Nothing green can grow up and flower out of that kind of soil. I need to break it up. I know this move will help me do that, so why do I loathe the idea of it so much? I've got to change my thinking on this. My whole life is an open book right now. I should embrace it, but... God, I hope it gets easier somehow.