Humane Society, Her Foot

The Matron was sad to hear that the local Humane Society 'rescued' 130 cats from a house and promptly killed them. She guesses the real shocker is that the two events--the rescue and the slaughter--were nearly the same day.

Sniffle. And rant. The link has all that and more.

Second Opinion!

Remember the deft professional that was the Matron's Ob-Gyn? Sorry for linkage, but background is the only road to appreciation of post.

She got that second opinion. But before we go into the logistics surrounding the idiosyncratic bladder and its hysterical tendencies (much like its owner), let's first pause and consider why in the world anyone would want to BE an urologist?

If she had one centimeter of unexplored physical territory left before today's urology appointment, well, Conquest and Cartography did their business. My, my. The Matron now knows precisely how her uterus jiggles over bladder when she stands up and sits down. And more.

But this physician?

Matron: "So do I have a hysterectomy or the mesh hammock under the bladder or both or what?"

Doctor: "Surgery?"

Matron: "Well, the Ob-Gyn seems to think I'm headed right to the operating room.

Doctor: "That seems silly, don't you think?"

Matron: "Why, yes!"

Doctor: "I'm all about the path of least intervention."

Matron: "Really? So civilized!"

Doctor: "And I don't think you need surgery. Your main problem is that you feel the need to go all the time, right? No leakage just urge?"

Matron: "Right."

Doctor: "Physical therapy. Let's start with physical therapy."

Matron: "Excuse me? You can undergo physical therapy for the bladder?"

Doctor: "You bet. Same way toddlers learn continence. You feel and manage a muscle. You can learn to retrain that muscle. Turn it off."

Matron: "Please help me learn to live with this. I am going to see a physical therapist for my bladder."

Doctor: "You bet."

Friends, in a down economy? Buy stock in Depends. The Matron is living up to her name.

In Which the Matronly Ecosystem is HIGHLY Disturbed and Distressed!!

You see, the Matronly ecosystem is highly fragile.  This is code for:  humans, dogs, cats, frogs, fish, birds, gerbils, hamsters, hermit crabs and even caged small snakes can cohabitate with the  Matron.

Not long ago, however, as she was rambling through the half-finished, much lived-in basement, a shot of fur brushed past her!!  She told herself this was a GIANT mouse, even though said fur blur seemed more like a kitten than egg.  Still. Denial is a powerful tool that's served her well so far, and this was no exception.

Matron to John:  "We have mice.  I mean, really big Superman mice.  I just saw one in the basement and it's like, a rat-size."

John (knowing her well):  "Uh-oh.  That's probably a rat, then, not a mouse.  How big?"

Matron:  "It looked like a four month old kitten.  Only disgusting.  But it wasn't a rat."

John:  "Ummmmm."

Just when the Matron's very fine repression-denial-evasion skills had convinced her that this was a mouse in the house, she saw the creature scuttling across the floorboard again.  Actually, mice scuttle.  This thing lurched.  And it was undeniably as big as a kitten!

Two days later.

John:  "Mary, sit down.   It's about the basement."

Matron:  "OH MY GOD WE HAVE RATS!  I REALLY DO BELONG IN A TRAILER!"

John:  "No, it's a mole.   There's a mole living in the basement."

Little pause.

John:  "Maybe two.  And their offspring."

No! Moles are not on the list of creatures compatible with the Matron's Ecosystem!!!  Especially not by the laundry, the children's playroom, the best shower in the house!!!  

So the Matron must now wear boots and carry a bucket when she enters the very necessary basement.  You see, the plan is that the boots will bear the brunt of venomous Fang while she tosses the bucket over the vermin, locking it in until John - being male and all -- could let it outdoors.   Because she's a girl and can't do this.

She has trouble sleeping at night, imagining chaos in the netherlands.  Whole tribes, colonies, populating.  Can moles strategize and revolt?  How complex is their sentience?   The intrusion is disconserting. 

Think she's hysterical?  Scarlett won't leave her bedroom.

Winter

In the good old days when Thurston was alive, it was not unusual to see both dogs strategically positioned near food.


These days, Satan's Familiar need not 'position' nor strategize as he simply hops on the table, at will.

Here is Jekyll, five years ago.



Here he is this morning, rounding the corner toward 16 years on this planet (in April).


Yesterday, the Matron's dear old friend took another downturn. He lost what remained of his vision.


He has also lost a whole host of other abilities, most of which have to do with Bodily Function. Currently, he is not convenient. He is messy. Plus, he favors this spot smack in the middle of the kitchen.

Yesterday, he had some kind of Inner Disturbance demanding that he pace frantically about while bumping into walls and dripping poop. This went on for a couple of hours. The Matron wiped and watched and when he walked into an open closet or tight corner and couldn't get out, she retrieved him.

When the Matron needed to tend to all other tasks during this time, Stryker took over.

Winter has fallen in so many ways. February is the cruelest month here. The snow is gray and embattled. So are the people, denied sun and heat for so long. Jekyll wears his winter in the 23 hours a day he is sleeping, in the legs that buckleand the snout that no longer tries to sniff a hand.

He can no longer go outside alone because he falls down hills and gets tangled in brush. Yesterday, he fell down the stairs he can no longer see.

So the Matron's family has made this commitment - when their old friend is awake, he will not be alone. They'll take turns on Jekyll duty, keeping him safe and clean. John is currently serving.

The Matron hopes her children are noticing how the elderly are treated in this household: with respect, kindness and care. She desires the same, some day. Where this old friend goes, she will follow -- with everyone else.

Death is back in their household. It is not here yet but has declared its presence in the midst of the black ice and sleeping roses. Dear, sweet dog friends! Give yours a little kiss on her behalf.

Give this to Your Beloved, Tomorrow

Valentine poetry for the mortality-minded, existentially angst-ed among her readers! This one's got it all.


Colours

When your face
appeared over my crumpled life
at first I understood
only the poverty of what I have.
Then its particular light
on woods, on rivers, on the sea,
became my beginning in the coloured world
in which I had not yet had my beginning.
I am so frightened, I am so frightened,
of the unexpected sunrise finishing,
of revelations
and tears and the excitement finishing.
I don't fight it, my love is this fear,
I nourish it who can nourish nothing,
love's slipshod watchman.
Fear hems me in.
I am conscious that these minutes are short
and that the colours in my eyes will vanish
when your face sets.

Yevgeny Yevtushenko translated from Russian by Robin Milner-Gulland and Peter Levi

Recommended Reading

Why the Matron will not be friending her students on Facebook AND why she visits the pages of 13 year old boys (Stryker and his friends) with some trepidation. Speaking of all things online, she wants to take a moment to thank her readers! She hit the 200 mark this week and wishes she had more time to spend reading and writing like this, which she has come to prefer over actual human contact. Just ask her family.

You're Welcome, Stryker

Being Scarlett's sibling has not been easy for Stryker-- he is quite comfortable in the epicenter of the family orbit (she's allowed to mix geography with astronomy because this is her unique world anyway) and hates all the hoopla surrounding his sister.

Stryker:  "You never do anything for me."

Matron (oh she was ready!):  "Remember when you decided to get serious about the yo-yo?  Who found a national yo-yo champion for you to study with?  When we found out about the tournament the day before, who dropped everything and spent the whole day at the Mall of America so you could win first place?  Remember when you were seven and an uncannily proficient reader?  Who started "The Boys Book Club" and then got that on the front page of the local paper?  Shall we continue?"

That Matron.  It's a good thing she had three children because imagine if that light hot Maternal Energy were focused just on one!

Stryker:  "Yeah but remember the day I had a terrible fever and was sick on the couch and you guys left me home alone?"  And he wells up.  Sigh

As both Truth and Counter to Scarlett, much ballyhoo has been made around Stryker's homework.  He's in the Science and Math Magnet and they put these 7th graders on that AP college track.  His teachers have nothing but praise.  His homework?  Comes first.  For the family.

Sunday night, Stryker mapped out plans for a huge History project, a 10 minute Power Point presentation on Nostrodamus that is half the trimester's grade.  If he did just so many minutes a night, he could finish the project on Thursday evening.  It's due Friday.  But the way he scheduled the work there was not ONE evening for error.

With that, he pushed save and was faced with a strange-looking Power Point file that he could open, but not edit.  Try as he might - and that child did -- he couldn't figure out how to continue. Did she mention that neither Stryker nor the Matron had ever even ventured into Power Point before this evening?  Day One and the schedule tottered, in peril.

Matron:  "Don't worry, honey.  I'll figure it out tomorrow while you're at school.  When you get home it will be ready to roll. Promise."

Stryker;  "Mom I am so worried."

She can hear you wringing your hands for her.

She emailed the file to Stryker's computer teacher, her work computer, and three technologically-inclined friends.    Then, just to be safe she sent it to the IT guy at her college.  Not that she's into overkill.

The next morning, she put a strained Stryker on the bus and found that her friends were at a loss.   Stryker managed to do something wrong enough that the file was unrecognizable.   The technologically inclined friends tried all kinds of magic to no avail.  The word 'loss' was bandied about.  

The computer teacher emailed:  "Rough break.  The history teacher is a hard-liner."

This problem consumed much of the Matron's morning.    And, the morning of a few IT state employees, two software junkies, and the guy down her office hallway.  The Matron herself went through several stages of denial, despair and desperation.  

With her final ounce of energy, she dragged her doomed self into the office of a  biologist, who, upon hearing dreadful dilemma said:  "Did you try opening Power Point and then clicking on "Open" in the upper left hand corner, re-opening the file WITH Power Point and then saving it?"

She did!  The file was saved!  The Matron wept at her colleague's feet and offered up the very firstborn whose psyche she was trying to save:  thank you!!

Even though barely a paper was graded and emails sat, unanswered and she had called in a BIG bunch of favors in order to occupy other people with her child's problem -- she did it!  Saved the day!  The minute she knew Stryker was on the bus, in a dramatic and detailed text message, she told him of her amazing feat.  Not to worry!   File saved!  Figured it out!  Mother swoops in!

Life's short.  Why not bask in the glow while you wait for the grateful, ardent reply?

Here's what she got.

"K.  Thanks."

At least he spelled one word out.