Cats and dogs living together.

I can’t wait to watch this year’s crop grow!

On Tuesday of last week, I took Mitsy and Pablo to the vets.  They have been losing weight, which they desperately needed to do, but they got too skinny, as if that were possible.  I could feel their spine.  They weren’t eating.  I knew things weren’t right.  Mitsy also has a large, marble-sized growth between her nose and her left eye.  We’ve been afraid to test it because doing so might damage her eye, but now it was so big that wasn’t a concern.  On Wednesday, the vet called with the results of all the expensive blood work.  Mitsy’s growth was not a tumor—always said in an Arnold voice.  So in addition to her hyperthyroid medication, she was issued a steroid to break it down.

Pablo has diabetes in addition to his arthritis.

On Thursday morning, I took my two fifteen-year-old cats back to the vets.  Mitsy got an antibiotic shot for her growth, and I brought Pablo to learn how to give him twice-daily insulin injections.

Pablo is awesome with his insulin injections.  He almost even likes them.  I’ve only pricked myself once so far.

Mitsy, who used to love Pill Pockets, quit her pills and food a month ago.  So getting her to take her medication is a chore.  I have to invent new things all the time.  I first figured out that she likes Salmon Pill Pockets but not Chicken Pill Pockets.  But after a day or so of that, she wasn’t interested in them either. Luckily, Perl still likes them with her allergy medication.

On Saturday, Mitsy was breathing really heavy.  I could see her chest rise and fall at a rapid rate.  She and I and Perl went outside to sit in the back yard.  I called the vet.  They said to bring her in.  I let her sit in the back yard for a little while longer, knowing it might be the last time.  And I started crying.  I didn’t stop crying until Sunday.

At the vet, they took X-rays.  I paid extra to have a radiologist stop his golf game long enough to respond to the photos.  The vet could have told me the same thing as it was obvious from the photos.  Mitsy’s heart is enlarged, she had fluid in her lungs, and her kidneys are shrinking.  She is dying.  Congestive heart failure.

It was mentioned briefly that we could do an ultrasound, but really, she has been on hyperthyroid medication for six years, she has a large growth next to her eye, and she is fifteen.  It is her time.  But I still wasn’t ready.

I was there until an hour past closing, using up all their tissues.  We talked about where I could take her on Sunday when my vets is closed if I needed to euthanize her.  The vet gave her an injection of something and sent me home with heart medication and a diuretic to get rid of the fluid in her lungs.

I was certain this was the end.  I would have to call it sometime on Sunday or Monday morning.

The vet called Monday night.  She was timid about what to ask about Mitsy, not knowing what happened.

“The drugs are a miracle,” I exclaimed.

“That’s great!” she said, relieved that she hadn’t just called someone who’s cat had died over the the last day and a half. Then she said, “Just remember, your cat is having congestive heart failure.  That means her heart could stop working at any time.”

“I know,” I said.  The thing was, the drugs had given me another day.  I spent all day Sunday pampering Mitsy.  We went outside again.  I moved her food bowls to the bedroom so she doesn’t have to walk as far.  I put the child gate up so that she can walk between the bedroom and the bathroom without the dog bothering her.

The dog.  The poor dog.  She stepped on something Saturday and started limping, holding up her right, front paw.  I couldn’t see anything wrong besides her ego not getting enough attention.  Her ego has miraculously healed.

Pablo is taking his insulin shots like a champ.  He probably loves me more now than he ever has.

Mitsy doesn’t like to take her pills.  My latest trick has been to crush them up and mix them with water from a can of tuna.  I’m going to be eating a lot of tuna.  But she looks great.  She is eating again, she seems happy.  Her breathing still isn’t great, but it is a lot better than it was on Saturday.

Every day, at this point, is a new challenge.  Will she be alive when I wake up.  Will she be alive when I get home from work.  I pet her and give her a kiss on the forehead and tell her I love her every chance I get, not knowing if it will be the last.  Mitsy and Pablo have been with me for the last fourteen years, through three different states, three cross-country trips, and nine different housing arrangements.  I’m writing their memoirs because they have been the only constant in my life over the last fourteen years.  Everything else has changed, except for them.

And now that is about to change.

I’m trying to be ready.

But I’m not.

During

Hope it fits!

Doesn’t fit. =(

So I filled it and bought a planer.

Now it fits!

The National Cancer Institute from the National Institute of Health says, “a late age at the time of birth of her first full-term baby” increases the chance of a woman having breast cancer. Mathematically, this is not the same as saying,”full-term pregnancy reduces a woman’s lifetime risk of breast cancer” as you state in your congressionally-mandated anti-abortion brochure. Full-term pregnancy earlier in life gives women normal odds at having breast cancer, not a reduced risk.

The NCI also says, “a woman’s chances of getting breast cancer increase as she gets older”, so why don’t you give all women mandated brochures on anti-aging techniques while you are at it?

And the NCI doesn’t list abortion as a risk factor. Actually, “They concluded that having an abortion or miscarriage does not increase a woman’s subsequent risk of developing breast cancer.”

Maybe you should spend more time on math education and less time trying to control women.

Then I woke up.

I did play golf this morning with Cupcake.  However, the sky threatened to rain the entire time.  We played in a tournament.  There were only eight people signed up, so the mens league that played this morning was also included.  We played with a woman who had just started playing a year ago, and she was doing quite well.  She wasn’t in the tournament though.

Eighteen holes went by surprisingly quickly.  By 2pm we were drinking a beer and listening to the results.  The third place team came in at 50.  The second place team scored 46.  And we, the only women playing, scored 45.

We won!

Thank goodness for handicaps.  Cupcake and I play well together because it usually works out that if one of us is having a bad hole, the other is doing well.

We then went to Lilly Macs for a late lunch and a couple of Guinness.  It was busy for a Saturday afternoon, but then again, it is St. Patrick’s Day.

I went home to “walk the dog”, and fell asleep for a late afternoon nap.  I showered and dressed and went back out around 2030.

Parking was atrocious.  Cars were just hovering, waiting for an open spot. I went to the Caltrain garage.  When I pulled in, there was a Lexus that was almost blocking my way.  Someone got out of the passenger side.  I was a bit annoyed at having to go around.  And then the woman put her window down and indicated she wanted to speak to me.

She was blonde, in her late 40′s, well dressed.  I turned down NPR as I rolled down my window and wondered what she was going to say.

“Do you know you have a headlight out?” she said. I smirked. “You probably already know.”

“Yeah, I realized it yesterday morning.”

“Be careful out there tonight.”

“Thanks.” I’d forgotten.  I was grateful for the reminder.

“I think we are wearing the same shirt.  Is that H&M?”

“Yes”

“I have the black one on underneath.” She showed me. “They are a bitch to keep ironed, aren’t they?  Especially that crease on the back.”

She kept chatting.  I was making friends with a random woman in a Lexus in a parking lot over my burnt-out headlight.  Then I noticed that the friend she’d dropped of was ready to back out and I was in the way, so I thanked her again and parked.

I walked back into Lilly Macs.  It was packed. All the Irish pubs on Murphy Street were.  The band was playing.  The young girls were getting ready to do a set of Irish dancing.  Reaching the bar was near impossible. It was loud and crowded and my senses were immediately overloaded.

I have a headlight out.  There will be tons of cops out soon.  I couldn’t stop thinking this.

I looked around to see if there was anyone that I know besides everyone working. Nada.  It seems my friends had all done the same thing I was about to do—walk in, and walk out.  Where are all these people on a normal night?  I love being there when it is busy, but I don’t do crowded. Not my scene any more.

Out the door I went as the bouncer was telling a woman she couldn’t bring a pizza in.  I stopped off at the bookstore down the street just to reset my equilibrium.  I was all dressed up and was out, but couldn’t justify staying out, so I took my car with the burnt out headlight and went home.

I’ve spent the evening on my couch listening to This American LIfe and Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me.

I’ll get my headlight fixed this week.

But first, to bed early.

Good night!

Until you mention gas prices.

Then, without hesitation, these same people will complain that gas prices are too high.  And in one statement, everything they have claimed about capitalism flies out the door.  They think that the government should do something about it.

Sounds kind of socialist to me.

Oil drilling and production in the United States is at its highest in eight years and gas is cheaper than the start of the recession under Bush.  We are actually exporting more oil than we are using. The oil companies are making record profits and still getting $4B in tax breaks. If you want to blame someone for high gas prices, why not ask the oil companies how they are making so much money off of you.

Oil is not a finite resource.  There is always more oil being made, however, it is believed that it takes millions of years for oil to form.  Thus, the more we take out of the earth at a higher rate than the earth can make it, eventually the oil supply will dwindle drastically and we will have to go through more effort to find it and refine it.

However, we Americans are more dependent on oil than any other nation.  This is what the current usage of oil looks like today for the top five consumer countries.

As you can see, the United States, which is the third most populated country, uses almost twice as much oil as China and India combined, while the population of China and India is eight times that of the US.  As you can imagine, both of these countries are increasing their demand for oil as their population demands the same conveniences we are afforded here in the US.  While the demand for oil in the US has actually decreased , in 2001, China was the third largest consumer and India was the seventh.  Both China and India are demanding more oil.  Another decade and this chart will change again.

That brings us to supply and demand.  Capitalism is built on this theory.  As supply diminishes and demand rises, prices go up.  In a free market, the goal of the company is to make larger and larger profits and keep its shareholders happy with increases in stock price or dividends.  So the more demand, the higher the price the companies can charge.  Same for dependence.  The more you depend on oil, the more companies will charge for it because you can’t quit.  This is great for the bottom line of the companies.  They can produce less, charge more, and the shareholders rejoice.  And capitalism shines.

However, it isn’t that simple because production has kept up with demand.  So the laws of supply and demand are being taunted by another evil.  Oil Futures.

It seems that we mostly have Wall Street to thank for our higher gas prices.  Before the mortgage market tanked, they were already looking for the next big bet, so they started selling oil futures and ran the price of oil up.  From How Stuff Works,

As a result of the artificial oil market, the average price per barrel of crude oil increased from $31.61 in July 2004 to $137.11 in July 2008 . The average cost for a gallon of regular unleaded gas in the United States grew from $1.93 to $4.09 over the same period .

If we want our gas prices to go down, then we need more government regulation to curb the oil futures market.    The Dodd-Frank Act passed a year and a half ago attempts to do this, however Republicans have continuously tried to kill the act instead of doing something to ensure gas prices decline.  But like I’ve said, the Republican party is pro-capitalism and anti-regulation, so there is no reason for them to want gas prices to go down.  If gas prices go down, then the oil companies don’t make the big profits.  Four of the top ten most profitable companies in the world are oil companies.  One is a natural gas company.  This is capitalism at its finest.

One of the mantras of the Republican party is, “Drill, baby, drill.”  Yet we are now exporting more oil than we import.  And gas prices still haven’t gone down due to oil futures, and because our consumption of oil may have decreased, but the demand worldwide has increased.  Thus, economically, it makes a lot more sense for us to slow our production, use up the supply of oil from other countries while it is still relatively cheap, and then parcel out the last bit to the world from our reserves slowly and at the highest price possible.

In conclusion, US demand is decreasing, but more populated countries are taking up the slack.  Wall Street is still trying to suck the poor people dry by betting on our future.  The Republicans want to continue giving four billion of our tax dollars away to the oil companies instead of investing in a replacement source of energy.

I leave you with this quote from President Obama at Nashua Community College in New Hampshire,

Let’s put every single member of Congress on record: You can stand with oil companies, or you can stand with the American people. You can keep subsidizing a fossil fuel that’s been getting taxpayer dollars for a century, or you can place your bets on a clean energy future.

Here is what could happen if I wasn’t on the pill:

The company would have to pay me a sick day every month because I’d be in too much pain to work. Although now that I already lost one ovary, this would only be every other month, so they’d get a bargain.

Once I did lose the other ovary to an ovarian cyst, which is highly likely since it happened already, that is an operation with three days of hospital stay which would probably help increase premium. Plus I’d be out of work at least two to four weeks. I’ve already done this, so I know.

Then, because I’m not on the pill anymore and my hormones kick into overdrive, my desire to have sex returns as well as my biological clock ticking so loud that you could hear it across the country, I decide to have kids, so I
– get a surrogate egg, or maybe I froze one of mine and get in-vitro fertilization treatments. That may or may not be covered but the result still is.
– get preggers before I lose the ovary in a last hurrah effort. No cost to the company for this part. I can do it on my own. Although I might just go to a sperm bank. Maybe that is covered if in-vitro is covered.
– I could adopt, which sometimes the company helps to cover.

Any way, insurance is now paying for
– my prenatal care
– the cost of the birth which might require a c-section because of previous operations.

And the company is paying for
– my maternity leave plus finding others to do my job while I’m gone.
– more sick days than I used to so I can care for my child
– another dependent on the insurance plan

I am not against people having kids, and I am not against reproductive services or families being covered by insurance. I have family and friends and coworkers who have done all of these things and I’d like to think I might some day. But if any company wants to bring up the cost of birth control as why they shouldn’t offer it, they should know it will cost them a lot more not to cover it.

And let’s not forget, if my employer is not providing contraception because of their moral objection to it, I will be raising my child as an agnostic democrat and sending them to a left-wing, liberal college. So bringing another child into this overpopulated world may not be what they ultimately intended in the long run.

Not only do they misunderstand how contraception works (maybe their women should explain it to them), they also think we are asking the government to pay for it. We aren’t.

We are asking that the health insurance that we pay for out of our own pocket, and through our employer on behalf of the work we are doing, cover contraception. However, then religious groups got into the picture and insisted that, as employers, they be exempt because they are morally against contraception.

But I am the one paying for the insurance with my own money and my hard work, so why should my employer get a say in what my insurance company pays? Well, it is because it is the employer that spends the money negotiating a group rate for the insurance and they want to pay the insurance (and vicariously me) as little as possible. So they think they have a right to be involved in my medical treatments.

They don’t.

So here is my proposed compromise. Religious institutions should be exempt from providing contraception in their negotiated, group-rate insurance plans. However, they should be required to allow employees to opt-out based on religious differences, and then the employer should be required to increase the employee’s wages by the amount that the employer pays for that employee’s health insurance plus an additional amount to cover the group rate discount they pay so the employee can afford to buy insurance on their own.

That is it. The employer and employee can both opt out for moral reasons.