Phineas vs. Things

 

Phineas, Phinney, Phinster, Phinmeister, Phin, first of his name, is settling in nicely at our house. 

I have a couple of fun videos of what happens when it is dinner time, which are hilarious. I'll find a place to put them so folks can see (and so they don't eat up more of my Google storage space. I do not feel like paying for more storage). 

He gets in bed with us every night and loves to cuddle up. He waits for an invitation when I am getting under the covers, standing patiently by the bedside. Some nights Doug or I have to go to the guest room because he migrates around a lot, and ends up under-butt. He produces a lot of heat. 

Last weekend, Doug needed to take a ride to his office in Virginia to connect his brand new laptop to the VPN in order to reset his password. He figured he could do it from the parking lot (he was only partially wrong, he was out of range so we had to park in the loading zone on the side of the building, where no loading was happening but security did eyeball us heartily). We took Phin for the ride. He pretty much sat contentedly in the back seat, looking out the window. I wanted to put him in the all-the-way back of the Jeep to get him used to that but Doug wanted to just see how he does in seat. 

We got to the office, he connected his laptop successfully, and we headed out for a scenic drive around NOVA. We found ourselves driving through and close to Old Town Alexandria, which is the fancy fru fru downtown where all the haps happen. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day. Everyone in the world was out. Pandemic be damned! Let's go! This seems to be the psyche of the American anymore with this Coronavirus. Everyone's over it, even if we're supposed to be distancing and taking care of ourselves, or, as many of my friends are still doing, not going anywhere. 

We basically have only been to the market or out for walks in the neighborhood since September when we were in Oregon. We both have had coronavirus, so Doug's thoughts are we really don't need to be behaving like we're under quarantine anymore. A lot of people who have been vaccinated fully and have waited 14 days, well, they should be able to also go out. 

Doug and I contemplated just going home, but he wanted to walk. We had been in the car for over an hour, getting ourselves good and lost in a few places. So he wanted a leg stretch. We parked, we took the dog out, we masked up to follow the rules (even though so many just aren't, but who are we to nag? It's outside, folks. Outside is good side!). 

Phin's former owner had warned us that he is not good with other dogs. Aggressive, unfriendly, bitey. Two weekends ago we had gone on a walk and met 3 dogs. 2 were successful sniff and greet, noses touching and no growling or biting. One was not. The owner was cool (his dog technically started it) and he said he's trying to socialize her more with other dogs so it was a good experiment and no one got hurt. 

I want him to be good with other dogs, because I would like to walk around and see people and not feel any fear over this. Doug is of the mindset that he can break Phin of this "I'mma bite you" habit, so he wants to bring him out as much as possible. I told him we should talk to a neighbor with a dog (Matt, up the street, the one who owns Bear, the runaway Chocolate Lab from a few entries ago) just to see if we can get them together. 

Phin lunged at a few dogs on our walk, Doug pulled him back quickly, and told him no and said hi to the owners. People seemed cool and said "It's okay, my dog doesn't like other dogs either." Seems to be a theme around here, I guess. 

We got thirsty and hungry, found ourselves a Brauhaus and a free/open outdoor table against  the front wall. Doug said this would be a good spot to keep Phineas still, and we could sit/drink/eat and sequester him from others walking down the sidewalk.

With their dogs. 

Phin lunged at a couple. One was an exceptionally sweet and curious golden who saw him there and wanted to say hi. Another was a dog who was actively hoovering food off the sidewalk the entire walk (I saw him coming from up the block). Doug was prepared for the snoot seeking treats under the table. 

Overall, I think he did well. Doug is very firm with him, and he does not get a cookie or anything (his previous owner loved giving him treats just for breathing or whatever. Doug is anti-cookie unless you do the absolute best thing ever). Phin got a cookie when we got home for doing great on the ride, and walking good on the leash, and only lunging at 4 dogs out of the dozens we saw. 

Under Doug's hand, I'd say that was a great day out in the world for Phineas. 

Today, Doug is at the hardware store shopping for his very first gas grill. We've never owned one. He's always been a Charcoal Or Nothing kinda guy but here we are. He's ready to take the advice of Hank Hill and "taste the meat, not the heat" over here. 

Phineas didn't like that Doug left without him (sorry buddy, you're stuck with me). I decided I would vacuum while Doug was not here, as he hates the vacuum cleaner. I think I've mentioned this in the past. When I'm home by myself for any stretch of time, the first thing I'm going to do is vacuum. 

I talked to Phineas to let him know what I was about to do. I pulled the vacuum out (we haven't vacuumed since we moved in, or dusted, or done the floors, and it is starting to show). I plugged it in and turned it on. Initially he seemed completely unbothered but then got in front of it and kept trying to stop it from moving forward, with his face. 

He was getting agitated by it and whining so I pointed him up to the chair and told him to stay. Worked for 30 seconds before he was back attempting to start a fight with the machine. 

Instructed back to chair. 30 seconds. Good boy - oh. you're back. No. Please go back up. 

Over and over. 

I eventually got the vacuuming done, and he seemed satisfied once I put the machine away. I have a feeling this will be our routine, at least until he gets used to it. 

I thought about getting a Roomba, but now I am not sure because he might attack it, flip it, break it or whatever, and I don't want to deal with that. Those dumb things are expensive. 

He's happy Doug's home. Peace is restored to the kingdom. 

What else is going on. Well, Doug got that new laptop, and they gave him 2 big huge monitors, so he set up a nice workstation in the basement, after setting mine up a couple weekends ago. So now we both work down there. I feel like I need a cubicle wall. 

Work has been amazingly busy. We try not to step on each others' toes. I have to do a lot of calls, so sometimes I'll go upstairs. I'm trying to figure out how to get my printer to be available on the wifi next. I just can't get it to work, and it used to be attached to our modem at the last house, but I'm at a loss as to how to set it up here as the modem is upstairs, printer is down, and I don't want to put the printer in my bedroom just to print a couple times a year. That's weird. 

I've been trying to get the boxes that go into storage organized. The camping stuff is in 3 places, there are books from Doug's college years he doesn't want to get rid of, so I want to stack them up together in a corner somewhere. There are boxes of kids' art. There is a box somewhere downstairs with things I want to get framed, that I saved when packing up in Massachusetts, and my Guster posters are in there, along with some classic Geoff and Jess things that I really love and want to keep. 

For the life of me I have no idea where that box is. 

We also have a ton of books that didn't go to the library book sale up in Massachusetts before we moved, and I regret that they are still in my life. I don't want them, Doug is not sure about getting rid of them. So they are in boxes.

We have a ton of glass, mugs, unused things that I just do not care to have out but don't want to pitch. So those are down there. Doug's grandma had a ton of coffee cups. We have used quite a few of them but don't have the space up here for all of them. I repacked some of the boxes and there are 2 really cute snowmen mugs that I know my kids drank hot chocolate out of in Ohio 20 years ago at her big round dining table in the senior community in Columbiana. 

Those were carefully re-wrapped along with some mugs for dessert making (pudding/fancy coffee with booze kinds of things). 

We have a spoon display box to hang collectible spoons on, but I am not sure where the spoons are. Sometimes I find the spoons and don't know where the wooden thing is, others I know where the wooden thing is and can't find the spoons, so they stand to be reunited some day, I guess. 

I've got about 30 boxes stacked up downstairs that are empty. I'm going to collapse them, and store them for the next move. They're all worth keeping, and to be honest, who knows in 2 years what we'll be doing but a head start on repacking will be nice. 

Doug has his grill. He didn't want to pay $30 to have it assembled, and then have to go pick it up on Tuesday. So this should be interesting. I'm happy I have a box of wine and chores to do downstairs as he has decided he's assembling the grill here in the living room, that way if he doesn't finish it, it won't be sitting outside half assembled overnight. I told him to set it up in the basement since I just cleared out a ton of space but he's hell bent to being up here. 

Oh joy.

Pathology

 wanted a separate post to say the pathology results came back negative. All's well in the kingdom of the left boob and the atypical ductal hyperplasia situation. 

i have a follow up appointment on video call at 2:15 today, and bloodwork on Monday, and another post-op in-person visit on March 16th (Guster Day, for those in the know, for "5am, March 16th. Jesus on the Radio you took a photograph of me...). 

A good day to have that follow up. and I'll probably be up at 5am to sing that little song too. 

My Left Boob, apologies to the movie about the Foot

For those interested in the back story, here is the entry about my Birthday Boob Biopsy, a gift to myself. 

I didn't write much about the follow up to that, I said "here's to the nothingburger" that I thought it would be. Well, it was a little more of a somethingburger. 

The biopsy results showed I had Atypical Ductal Hyperplasia. The breast health doctors assured me that it was not cancer, but, if left alone and ignored, it runs the risk of developing into cancer down the road. Recommendation was that we remove the ADH area. 

The surgeon described it as a golf ball sized amount of tissue et al. I joked that in my already small and wee boobies, a golf ball is a significant amount of tissue but okay. Gotta do what's right and healthy. 

We picked a date.
I got COVID-19.
I rescheduled the date.
We got the house rental all set up a month and a half before we needed to and my surgery was scheduled in the midst of moving time.
I realized how much I'd need to do before the move and if I had surgery the beginning of February, I'd be unable to accomplish things. Plus, I was still reeling from feeling tired and drained post-covid). 

I rescheduled again. 

It's kind of a normal thing for me to postpone and reschedule things that are self-care related. The calendar is never right. There's always a thing, or someone needs to do something, or I need to do something. It's a complicated life. I feel like I spend so much time doing absolutely nothing, but that time is rarely in a long enough stretch that it makes sense to get a hysterectomy or boob surgery or anything that will knock me on my ass for more than four days. And work. Holy cow, I missed two solid weeks and a lot of stray hours from Covid. I don't want to say I'm the carabiner that holds our team on the side of the mountain but wow. It was a lot of me not being there.

So the rescheduling was at a good time. 

This Monday, I kept the appointment, I had the surgery, and we got the mess removed. Waiting on the results of the pathology right now. 

How do I feel? Sore. Right into my armpit, just like with the biopsy. I'm so glad we got in the house, got the dog, are semi-settled, and things are cruising along because there is no way I could have done this during the month of February. 

Dog has been a constant bed companion. He's a cuddler, so he likes to be close. Which is something I wish I'd had during the Covid recovery period. 

I'm up and about, but not allowed to lift things. I will get The Boy to pick the laundry basket up and put it on the bed and I can fold the contents. I'm sure that will make me uncomfortable but it'll keep me busy. I can do dishes, so I'm keeping up on that because my men are just not good at keeping up with it. We don't have a lot of space for the dishes to dry so you have to wash a few at a time until they are all done, and then there are more. It actually gives me something to look forward to. I can walk out to the kitchen and wash some plates or all the glasses that have accumulated. Accomplished! 

Sleep has been alright, Monday I went to bed and pretty much slept through the night, and most of Tuesday. I got up around 1pm and made it to the living room to hang out. Bed at 9pm Tuesday, but woke up at 9am and decided to be up for the day. I spent time proofreading a book for my friend Matt and got halfway done. 

Last night was rough. I had some serious restless leg going on, and my boob hurt. No position I could put myself into was comfortable. I was ready to give up and go continue reading Matt's book but I wanted to be wide awake and clear headed for proofing. I then realized I had not taken the pain medication at 9pm when I headed to bed. It was after 1:30, I didn't want to get out of bed, I was semi-trapped by Dog, but wiggled my way up and out from under the covers successfully while only making a few pained noises. The pain medication helped, and I was able to fall asleep. 

Doug dropped his phone under the bed at 7:30 and needed to get the broom to get it, so, I got up, showered, and got ready for work. 

My boob is swollen and tender. There is a steri strip over the incision so I haven't seen it yet. The doctor said not to pull it off, that it would fall off on its own. I'll take his advice on that and wait. Not seeing a lot of bruising, just swelling that is reminiscent of when I would breastfeed the children and we'd go too long between feedings. Firm and tender, uncomfortable for sure. 

The doctor told me to take two weeks off and I laughed. What on earth would I need two weeks off for? It isn't like I'm riding the metro and commuting, or schlepping a laptop bag over my shoulder (God, that would hurt so much right now). I work at home in Guster T-shirts and yoga pants. So he told me to take a week.

I opted to take three days, and today's the day I'm back. There's a lot to do. I read all the slack messages during my time out and there's so much happening. So. Much. I'm trying to wrap my head around how so much can change and happen in 3 days. 

So, into the fire we go, I guess. But as the saying goes... "But first, coffee."