...Got Some 'Splainin To Do

On a lighter note, I mentioned in the previous post that I had to lock Zoe in the bedroom during my first trip to the Emergency Department. I said that I knew I would suffer the consequences or some such statement. What follows is the latest "I Love Lucy" episode in my life with my neighbor and friend Heidi.

As I said, I managed to get down into the basement to lock up the dogs, but in the confusion, Zoe snuck back upstairs. I wasn't going to be able to do another round trip so I simply locked her in the bedroom. Now Zoe is a bit of a piddler and hysterical pooper. I was fairly sure I would come home to some kind of minimal mess in my bedroom. She didn't disappoint me.

After traipsing back and forth across the hospital campus in order to retrieve my new meds, I finally made it back home Monday evening. I managed to get the dogs outside and even managed to get down to the basement to feed them (they would not have let me rest until their bellies were full). Sure enough, Zoe had left some turdlets on the floor by the bed and had piddled on some dirty laundry. I figured I would deal with it when I could. The window had been left open all day so there was no obnoxious smell in the room and bending down to clean it up was not an option.

At the last minute, Frankie decided to take off and I thought, "Well, dog, you're on your own, I have to go lay down." I struggled to my bedroom, phone and urinal in hand, and collapsed. After catching my breathe I zipped off a text to Heidi (Ethel to my Lucy). Oh, yeah, in the midst of all this I was watching her airedale and had to bring him home that morning before heading to the hospital. So I texted her, "Please help. When will you be home?"

She called me back immediately and said she had just gotten home and would be over shortly. I told her Frankie was outside and to see if she could round him up when she got here and to use the kitchen door. I then just tried to relax and wait.

Abby the Cat was perched on top of The Kitteh Tower and I had thought nothing of it. However, once Heidi arrived all Hell broke loose. I had not believed that the cats would be more afraid of other humans than of Skittles-the-Mighty-(almost)-Cat-Killer... I was very wrong.

All I could hear was extreme chaos as Heidi and her daughter inadvertently spooked Abby sending her flying off the tower to an awaiting Skittles below. A rapid chase around the great room apparently ensued. Would Abby simply make a break for the safety zone of the basement? NO! She decides to head for Papa's bed and dives beneath under the headboard.

Now up until that moment I had a wooden bar stool at the headboard on which was a nice halogen reading lamp. Skittles comes flying around the corner and proceeds to launch herself through the legs of the bar stool and wedge herself half way under the bed, sending stool and lamp flying through the air and crashing to the floor. Minus one reading lamp.

Heidi and her daughter try to get the dog out of the room. Of course, I already realize that I will have to get up again because I will need to get the cat out of the bedroom if I will have any rest. I'm lying there, glasses over on the dresser and so blind as a bat. The constant struggle to remove Skit from the room is occurring just out of arms reach.

First I tell Heidi that there are two pill bottles on the bathroom counter that I need - antibiotics and pain pills. She goes to retrieve them amidst the insanity and comes back with three bottles and begins to hand them to me (remember I am without glasses and blind). Unfortunately the lid was not on my pain pills and as she hands the bottle it slips and my pain pills go flying all over the bedroom.

Now Heidi is scrambling to pick up all the pills so the dogs don't nab them. Tylenol is very bad for dogs and the narcotic portion isn't much better. I am stuck in bed trying not to lose my temper. Heidi stands up and declares she's recovered them all - ten. Ten? I had already taken one and thought they had only given me ten. I hold the bottle up close to my blind eyes and see that they have given me twelve. One is still missing. Heidi looks again and declares that she cannot find it.

She asks what else needs to be done. As I realize that I will have to get up now anyway to remove the cat AND find the missing pill, I suggest that there's really nothing more, but she does manage to remember the dog food downstairs (thank god). So I have her go down and bring up all the dog food and dog dishes so that I will not have to do the stairs again in the near future. She also puts out cat food for the cats.

While she is doing this, I manage to get Skittles locked in the bathroom and other dogs out of the bedroom and close the door. I begin to try and coax Abby out from under the bed. No luck. Heidi comes back upstairs and I thank her and send her on her way.

I begin to realize that I will have to get down closer to the floor. I pause and gulp slightly. OK, pillow onto the hard tile and slowly ease myself to my knees and then down to my elbows. Knees and elbows are still relatively pain free at this point. Sure enough, Abby is sitting pretty and I eventually manage to ease her out.

Once she is out I see the missing pill back behind where she was hiding. No way to reach the pill in my current position. Without thinking that my phone is across the room, I ease off the pillow and stretch out onto the floor. I end up having to use the pillow to swipe the pill out from under the bed. Now I have the pill and I am lying flat out on the floor with hands and feet/legs that are not really functional and only then wonder how I am supposed to get up.

I imagine myself lying there for hours in my own urine and figure out a way to gradual breathe through the pain and get back up on my knees. Funny thing as I do, I start to smell dog poop. Remember there was no odor in the room when I got home. This could only mean one thing. Yes, I had laid down and squished the little turdlets. In fact, as I manage to get completely up off the floor I have one smeared across my thigh. Using more dirty laundry I wipe off my leg, carefully put the pill into the bottle, recover the dogs, and, once again, collapse in bed.

At this point, and this is the really important point, I am faced with a choice. I can burst into tears in pain, frustration, and anger and curse my fate or I can get Kate on the phone and tell her the story and have a good laugh at the total ridiculous nature of life. I choose the latter.

And the appropriate coda to this story is that on Thursday I once again had to lock the dogs in the bedroom when I took off for the hospital via ambulance. Once again, Zoe did not disappoint and there were two small piddle puddles on the floor. I called Kate and said that at least this time I would not end up rolling around in dog shit. After getting off the phone, I took care of running/feeding the dogs, gathered them up into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed. As I rolled over, I could feel something cold and hard under my back. Yes, it would appear I ended up rolling in it one more time as Zoe had left a little present for me in bed. ::sigh::