Let's catch up a bit, shall we?

I am a lazy, lazy person. At the beginning of the new year, I promised myself I was going to blog more. I was going to write more and try to get the creative juices flowing again. Because, let's face it, editing press releases is better for the checkbook than it is for the creative side of the brain. And really? It takes little to no effort to post a blog. Truly. I sit here every night and check my email and catch up on the world via Facebook, but I can't take the time to post a blog? Now that is just lazy.



But I am not going to lie. My posts are not going to get any more frequent until I can ditch the satellite Internet and get something better. Preferably something DOWNstairs, instead of up here in my office. I want to use the office for real writing ... like the 145 book ideas floating around in my head ... without the distraction of the Internet.



The past few months have been crazy! I recovered from my surgery -- God it is good to breathe again! I had no idea how little oxygen I was getting! I have started riding again and am flying every flyable day the weekend will give me. Yes, there are some not-so-great things right now (the MIL comes to mind, but that is another post completely. Or maybe a manifesto sent to passiveaggressivenotes.com ...) but mostly life is pretty damn good.



I turned 30 on the 7th of May and it was not the milestone I was expecting it to be. When I was 20, and even 25, 30 seemed SO OLD. But I don't feel old at all. In fact, I feel like I am ready for my life to start actually going somewhere. I am getting closer and closer to being a "real" pilot and am starting to think about what I can do next. I am thinking ... Commercial license so I can actually make some money doing what I love. That or opening a bakery/coffee shop. I still have not given up on being able to bake for a living!



I realized a dream this past year -- I finally made it to see Pam Tillis in concert. I literally tried for 7 years, but something kept keeping me from seeing her. Sweetheart's Dance was my first CD and Homeward Looking Angel literally changed the path of my life. If my life had a soundtrack, Pam would feature prominently. I got 2nd row, center stage tickets and G and I went to see her. Here are a couple pictures:

Yes, that's right. I got to meet her. And, yes, I cried. And my husband had to talk for me. It was literally a dream come true and I was overcome with emotion ... and I am not ashamed of it! I got her autograph on a CD and my wonderful husband even sacrificed his favorite hat so I would have more than one thing signed by her. It was a great night.

I have been inflating the balloon with hardly even a word of help from my father in law for a month or so now. Talk about a rush? 24 million (yes, million) BTUs of firepower in my hot little hands. The first time I did it alone was one of the most amazing and memorable moments of my life. I had waiting SO LONG to be able to do it alone it was a little overwhelming. Of course, when you are a balloon pilot, there is no time for being overwhelmed - that has to wait until the flight is over!!!!

This would be a good moment to thank my wonderful crew, by the way. Adam, who has been with me longer than my husband and is my back-up crew chief, G, my wonderful husband that hardly grumbles when I wake him up to go flying and chases me across the countryside, (he knows where I am going before I do sometimes!), Gerald, a recent recruit courtesy of my husband and a really experienced crew member that I am super grateful for (and don't have to do much training on) and Alexa and Shannon -- newcomers to ballooning but great crew people and fun ladies to spend a morning with (and on the short list for flights once I am a full-fledged pilot). I have great people that crew for me and I would not trade any of them for anything ... truly. I owe them a cookout with a lot of beer when this is all over!!!!!!

Truly, this has been a banner year. I will post more later, but suffice to say that I have made some decisions, some hard, some not, weathered a couple of storms, achieved some milestones and goals, forgiven what some think I should not have, and have had some dreams come true with others in the process of doing so.

My fingers are tired now, so more later, but (to quote my new favorite band) "Here's to LIFE!" (and whatever is coming at me next!!!!)

Let's Talk About Me

Well, this week has been a doozy! My ENT moved my sinus surgery up 2 weeks, so I had it last Thursday. And it sucked. I am not going to lie. I kind of thought people were exaggerating when they said I was going to want to die. They weren't. I take that back. I wanted to die ... until I realized the WONDERFUL Dr. Escudero had actually READ my medication history and did not screw around with the drugs. Helloooooo highest dose of Percocet I have ever had! I was a very happy camper. And so, this may be a very interested blog post!

First, I do not recommend this surgery unless you have to have it. It hurts to do things you would not believe. And you have a bloody nose for 48 hours and have to wear this funky drip pad thing that you have to change every hour because you are soaking the gauze with your blood. And your nose swells. And you think. "Oh, I will put a cold compress on it. That will make it feel better!" WRONG!!!!!!!!!!!! Your nose is so tender you can't kiss your husband, let alone put an ice pack on it!!!!! However, you CAN put a compress on your cheeks and eyes to help speed the healing of the black eyes. OK, not BLACK, but definitely yellow. And puffy. So I basically crawled into bed and put myself in a Percocet induced coma for 2 days. It was wonderful.

But the thing is, this surgery is a sneaky bastard. Oh, you think "Nose surgery is not even invasive? I am going to be up and around in no time!!!!" WRONG AGAIN. You are as weak as the newborn baby (Hi Baby Samantha! Auntie Charity loves you!!!!!!) my best friend had this morning. You have to have someone around because you can't make it up and down the stairs in your house without getting tired. And I sure as hell hope you went grocery shopping before 'cause that SUCKS if you do it 4 days after because your husband is claiming to be sick (he has allergies) and can't go for you, even though there are things you need. So you have to go because he is being a baby (like all men when they are sick) and he doesn't even turn his CELL PHONE on while you are gone. No, I am not bitter about this at all. He is still paying for this transgression and probably will be until I am back at work. In 2 weeks.

My point? I am pissed. I have cabin fever, but don't have the energy to go anywhere. I am sick of FarmVille and YoVille and every other FacebookVille there is. I want HUMAN INTERACTION that I am not related to. I baked scones today, just for something to do (they are so easy, I can make them in 10 minutes and then I can go rest. For an hour. Because that is how f-ing tired making them made me.). They were delicious by the way. The guys at Big-O will be happy tomorrow. Me? I am thinking more drugs tomorrow. I just want to wake up and feel normal. On the bright side, even with the outrageously swollen nose, I can breathe better than I could before the surgery. Which gives me hope for when I am fully recovered.

Now though? I am bored. And grumpy. And lonely. And I hurt. And I am sick of daytime TV, but lack the energy to put a movie in. And I hate that I live in the boonies and can't get wireless Internet. Because that means I have to actually get up and out of bed to check my email. And that makes me grumpy. I wanted to work on my book, but I need the Internet for research. Which means I can't work on my book from bed. And I feel just crappy enough to really, really want to get OUT of bed, but not have the energy to do so. The doc says I should be able to start doing "half of your normal day" about a week after the surgery. I can also blow my nose then which, along with bending over and picking up anything over 10 pounds, is forbidden. So I figure about Thursday my life should start to feel better. And I sure as hell hope it does because I am about 2 steps from going absolutely, certifiably, INSANE.

I think I need another happy pill ... and any ideas you have for staying halfway sane!!!!!

At Last!!!!!!!

Great news!!!! Sam has finished his chemo treatments!!!!! He has a follow up appointment next month for a blood test, but YAY! NO MORE CHEMO!!!! (Which means G and I might finally start making a dent in those chemo payments!!!!! Another YAY!!!!!)

Sam was so excited that he wanted to bake a cake for Dr. Kelly and her staff. He wanted to make it liver flavored, but I stepped in and baked a lovely yellow cake with buttercream frosting. In the shape of a heart. With mint and dark chocolate chips around it. It was beautiful:

Doesn't that look delicious? G took in it on Monday when Sam had his last treatment and (from what I hear) it was a hit. We are so very grateful to Dr. Kelly and her staff for saving Sam!!! He loves them just as much as we do!!!

Here is Sam with Dr. Kelly. She never fails to get a doggie smile and tail wags. Sometimes he even bays at her! How many vets can say their clients are that happy to see them????

And here are a couple shots of him because I love him so much -- see his yellow bandanna? It says "I took a BITE out of cancer." Yellow is most definitely his color!!!!!

There are a few more, but I am trying REALLY hard not to be a crazy beagle momma. And really? Now that he is done with chemo and has a clean bill of health, this can revert to its original purpose -- a blog about our life together (you know, me, G, Sam, Dixie, Noelle, Patriot, Divot and Diesel).

In that vein, most of you know I have been battling chronic sinus infections for about 2.5 years now. Well, tomorrow that starts to come to an end!!!! I am having a septoplasty and turbinectomy tomorrow and hopefully in a few weeks I will be able to breath out of my nose and the crud that is in my sinuses will drain out taking the chronic infections with it!!!!! FINALLY my life will not be centered around my health! I can concentrate on finishing my pilot license and learning to jump horses!! (Nothing like some high-impact sports right after surgery!) Hopefully I will also be able to start going to the gym again and I can lose some of the flab I am carrying around. Working out seemed to irritate my sinuses so I kept getting sicker and sicker -- haven't been to the gym since AUGUST and I am (strange to say) anxious to get back!!!!!

So that is what is going on this week. As I am off work for the next few weeks I will try to keep this updated. Given the fact I have a brand new bottle of Percocet, the posts might be pretty entertaining!!!!!!

One more pic -- soon I hope to be doing this again!!!!!!! I have not been getting NEAR enough flight or saddle time to make me even close to being easy to live with!!!!!

(Yes that is me and yes, I have 24 million BTUs in my hot little hands!!!! Talk about firepower!)

Photo credit for the balloon photo goes to Alexa Hoffman All the others were taken by G and me.

No News Really IS Good News!

I have been so remiss in updating this blog -- it is disgraceful! However, since I started this blog to help me cope with what I was certain were going to be some very dark days, the lack of updating is actually a good thing!

Sam is doing GREAT. He has finished his every-other-week chemo treatments and has graduated to maintenance treatments once a month. He no longer has to have the dreaded IV chemo that ruins his appetite and makes me sure he is on death's doorstep. Instead he gets the pill form (really, human oncology needs to take lessons here) and just has to have blood work to check on his white blood cell (WBC) count. This is great news!

Dr. Kelly (the oncologist) says he is doing great. At his last appointment she said if she did not know Sam, she would never even know he had cancer. There is no sign of lymphoma ANYWHERE in his physical exam or his blood work.

Sam of course, does not know the difference, but G and I sure do! He is acting younger than he has acted in years and runs around the house like a puppy. He loves to go to Dr. Kelly's office and bays when he sees his favorite nurses (Amy and Garret). The first day I met with the oncologist, Dr. Kelly told me that doggie chemo was nothing like what I was thinking. After having dear friends go through chemo for breast cancer, I thought I was going to have a sick puppy that was going to lose his hair. When she said they jokingly called what they gave "youth serum" I thought they were just trying to make me feel better about what I thought was going to be torturing my dog. They told me eventually Sam would LOVE to come to see them because they made it such a pleasant experience. For obvious reasons, I thought they were lying. Seriously? A dog LIKING to go to the vet? And not only that, a dog LIKING to get poison injected into its veins?

Not so, not so at all. They were so right. Sam loves to go there! He doesn't shake or whine at all!. In fact, he has gotten so he jumps out of the car when we get there and starts baying when he walks in the door. He really gets going when he sees Amy and Garrett (his favorite nurses)! They spoil him rotten -- G says it is like having a rock star for a dog. They actually pre-soak crunchy dog biscuits in water so he can chew them easier! Although I think he always hopes they forget because then he gets canned dog food served to him in a dish by Miss Amy. I think he knows she has a soft spot for hound dogs named Sam -- she lost her basset to cancer and the experience of working through that with Dr. Kelly as her oncologist inspired her to go to vet tech school and now she works for Dr. Kelly! Sam loves her.

This is such a relief for G and I. We were convinced when EVIL DR. PARK AT SUN RANCH VET IN LOS LUNAS misdiagnosed him that we were too late to save him. Now we have a beagle that acts much younger than his 14 years and are looking for another one to add to our family.

I am so grateful that this has all worked out for the best. I was terrified back in August when we finally got a correct diagnosis. I thought he certainly was not going to make it to Halloween, let alone to see his 14th birthday and ring in 2010 with us! We are so blessed and lucky to still have our Sam with us. I think he is going to love having a puppy to train! Maybe soon I will turn this back into a blog about G and I ... but I sure do love talking about Sam. I will have to get him to pose for some pictures soon ...

A moment please ...

I know I have been remiss in updating this blog -- the last month has been pretty wild and I promise I will give you an update on the happenings of Sam. And me. And Grant. But today I want to dedicate this to another dog -- my Torre.

I got Torre during a VERY dark time of my life.

I was living in Connecticut and working at a grooming shop. Her owners came in one day and said they were going to put her down because they were having a baby. Well, something in me woke up and said, "YOU need to take this dog." So I did. Torre was always there for me, unconditionally loving me when I did not love myself. She was my pillow many nights and my constant companion. When I moved back to New Mexico, Torre flew Delta while I followed on my Southwest jet.

We moved in with my parents -- she thrived being around their dogs. When my brother got a puppy, she would let it hold on to her tail with its teeth while she pulled it around. She started going on walks with my dad -- he would snap the leash on her and she would hold it in her mouth -- always the master of her own destiny. She walked with m dad almost every day until her poor legs just couldn't do it anymore. Still, every Sunday he would let her out of the fenced yard to run around with him and indulge in that doggie delicacy -- cat poop.

Torre stayed with them when I went to college; I would come home to visit, but over time she became less and less my dog and more and more my dad's dog. When I moved to Albuquerque, there was no question that she would stay with my parents.

Torre loved to play in the snow when she lived back East -- she would stick her nose down in it and take off like a snowplow. Living in New Mexico, she didn't have snow, but she had a pool -- and she loved to play in that as much as the snow. She loved peanut butter biscuits from PetCo, bacon and pretty much any other sort of people food -- she was not a fan of veggies, but if you built it up enough she would take it, no questions asked. She loved to play with the cardboard paper towel rolls and wrapping paper rolls -- she would snatch them up and run around the house with them. I used to wave them in front of her and she would go nuts trying to catch them. One day she took a 2 liter Diet Coke bottle out of the trash and managed to twist the top off -- she then proceeded to lick the mouth of the bottle. That became a ritual -- give her the bottle to play with. She would carefully tear open squeaky toys, take the squeaker out and walk around the house squeaking it; forever after ignoring the very expensive toy it came out of. When she was younger, she would always greet my with a big bark and a Torre-Hug - running up to me and wrapping her huge paws around my waist. She would smile up and me and wag her tail. Even the last time I saw her, she tried to do it for me; I got down and hugged her instead.

As the years went on, Torre got old -- just like all dogs do. They don't realize they are supposed to live forever. She was on heart medication, arthritis medication and a whole host of others. She actually had a pill box that had the days of the week on it; actually, she had two - one for the morning and one for the evening.

She went in for a checkup today and Dr. Brown said she was in kidney failure. He and my mom made the decision to put her down -- anything else would have been cruel to her.

So here is to Torre -- a wonderful dog that helped me put the light back in my life just by being there for me when I was not there for myself. Even though I had all the people in the world pulling for me, nothing made me feel better than rubbing her belly and looking into those big brown eyes.

To Torre -- wherever you are, I hope you are running and playing with puppies and laying under trees eating peanut butter biscuits. I love you.

Heartbreaking Good News -- Literally

Well, as you know, today was The Big Day. Sam and I went to the oncologist to see what she had to say. She and her staff were great -- very nice, professional and COMPASSIONATE. That, to me, was the most important thing. I need to be talked to like the worried beagle mom I am, not someone that doesn't have a clue as to what is going on with my dog.

I won't get into the particulars of what happened -- they ran a lot of tests and drew some blood. We discussed his diet and what I need to do to help him fight the cancer. Spoiled baby, he is going to be getting home-cooked meals! (And some specialty dog food.)

So, the diagnosis? Stage 3 lymphoma. The easiest cancer to treat, provided it is caught in time, which Sam's has been. That is really great news! I was super happy to hear that, along with the fact that veterinary chemotherapy is MUCH easier on the body than human. There is no hair loss and hardly any nausea. It just makes them feel better.

So, I should be delirious, right? This post should be all about how happy I am that my baby is going to live forever and be happy. I should be dancing around, screaming my joy from the rooftops, right????

See, that is the thing. Chemo is not free. It is not even close to free. And that means that Grant and I have a horrible decision to make. The treatment, at the low end, for 16 chemo sessions and all that comes with it, costs 4700.00 (before taxes). At the high end, it is 5700 (again, before taxes). So, do we spend the money and go into debt and save him for a year and a half (maybe more) or do we make what he has left the best it can be for as long as we can? I am at a loss. I just don't know what to do. I don't want him to be in pain, but I also don't know that we can afford the treatments, even at the low end of the spectrum. This is breaking my heart. I have the chance to save him, but at what cost? And if we do the chemo, how much time does that buy us? A year? Maybe more? He is 13 (14 in December) and the typical beagle lift span is only 10-15 years. So where does that leave us? What do we do? I have spent the whole day trying to figure out what I do and how I justify the decision. How can I make that choice for him? How do I know what he would want me to do?

So that is where we stand right now. Stuck between a rock and a hard place -- if ANYONE has a suggestion as to what they think, please let me know. I am too heartsick to think about it anymore tonight.

Small update, but an update nonetheless

First, thank you everyone for your wonderful thoughts and prayers for Sam. I told him today how many people were pulling for him and wanting him to fight. He just wanted to know how many cookies a day having cancer gets you. Turns out, 3 plus whatever Grandma gives him during the day.

I spoke with the oncologist office today and was pretty impressed. (http://www.vetcancercare.com/) He has an appointment on Monday (August 31) for his initial exam. The receptionist was very nice, called me by name and told me what to expect. The oncologist (Dr. Kelly) will take blood, look at the X-rays and just generally do a thorough exam. We will talk about what to expect and how to approach Sam's illness. They customize treatments for each individual animal, which I think is great.

In other news, Grant and I before Sam got sick started looking for a second beagle. We started at the New Mexico Beagle Rescue (http://www.newmexicobeaglerescue.org/) and found a few we are interested in. We decided to continue with the adoption process since there are SO many beagles out there that need a home AND we know that sometimes a younger dog can give an older dog a new lease on life. Which, of course, we are hoping for. Today Grant found one at the Valencia County Shelter that looks promising. He left a message for them today and will try again tomorrow. Wish us luck!!!!!

Thank you again for your thoughts and prayers -- I need all the moral support (and Valium!) I can get.