The Disabled Guy is a Spaz- the doctor says so...

In January, DG had a follow-up appointment. Well, follow-up isn't the right word. Once a year, he sees a GP (general practitioner, for those not up on the hip, hospital lingo). Once a month, he sees the anti-coag clinic (that's anti-coagulation, for people on blood thinners). So, in January, he saw his doctor and that doctor prescribed Baclofen.

Baclofen is a muscle relaxer and anti-spastic. But we didn't know that at the time. A few weeks go by and DG tells me that he hasn't received his Baclofen. Of course, he didn't say that at the time. What he said was: "I didn't get this drug I'm supposed to get." Which was DG-speak for "call and figure this out with as minimal information as possible..."

The pharmacist at the VA looked it up and said that all his drugs were current and if he didn't have something, just wait, it was probably en route. And then I forgot about it.

Hey, what can I say? I had a lot of crap going on in my own life. In case I haven't crammed it down your throats as well, I've got Fibromyalgia, which is a lovely, debilitating disorder that causes a lot of pain. But I digress.

Today, DG went up to the VA hospital and saw the seizure people. The clinic has its own goofy name (and by "clinic", I mean in the hospital, its not a free-standing place) and they see people who have seizure issues. DG started having seizures about six months after the stroke (the day before my twenty-sixth birthday, in fact). They tried to wean him off seizure meds, but after a short time, he started having them again. So, back on the drugs he goes. And now he sees the seizure clinic once a year (unless there's a problem, of course).

Now, DG doesn't care what clinic he sees. He goes to the appointment, gets seen, says everything is fine, even if it isn't. He slipped on the ice a couple of years ago and quite possibly broke a rib or two. He landed on his paralyzed arm (he was wearing a puffy winter coat). Anyway, he was at the hospital for another reason and I really don't remember why I was with him, other than to make him go to Urgent Care for his ribs. The doctor looked at his ribs- bruised, visibly swollen, it hurt to even raise his arm- and that's the doctor raising his arm for him, since DG can't raise his arm. X-rays showed no fracture, so the doctor called it a "bone bruise" and sent him on his way with a bottle of Vicodin, some anti-inflammatories, and instructions on using ice and heat.

In the truck for the drive home he said, "Wow. How hard do you have to hit a bone to bruise it?"

I replied: "You know how hard you have to hit it to break it?" When he nodded I added, "A little less than that."

He wasn't amused.

So, today, he comes back from his appointment with a note. The note tells me nothing- its just a doctor's name, a phone number and the word Baclofen. In DG speak, which took about three minutes to get out, I was told I had to call the doctor at that number, inform them that the order for the drugs had been written but never put into the computer. And apparently, doctors can't just put in other doctors' requests all willy-nilly.

While I was on hold, I showed DG my daily photo submission on Flickr. Apparently, he doesn't think I'm artsy and doesn't believe I was naked in the photo I took of myself. I was trying not to say stuff while on hold, because at the moment you blurt out: "Of course I was naked in that photo, that's my ASS right there!" the person you're waiting for gets on the phone. Here's the photo in question if you feel like clicking. If you're on my Facebook list, then you've already seen it.

I got the medicine order all sorted with a receptionist. I asked if he knew what Baclofen was for and he stated that he did not (he was merely a data entry/receptionist person). I said I'd Google it. And while I was on hold while Mr. Receptionist did what he had to do, I found Baclofen.

Its a muscle relaxer and antispastic. That's right. Apparently, the Disabled Guy is a Spaz. And he takes medicine for it.

The Disabled Guy talks to puppies...

Two puppies to be exact. I mentioned how he renames the pups and he finally got around to it this past week. Of course, Easton is Sheena Easton. Martini and Eli I caught on video. Drake and Moose are still Drake and Moose but he elongates their vowels- "Draaaaaaayke!" and "Mooooooooose!" Wah-lah! is still Wah-Lah! but that's because he can't come up with anything more ridiculous to call her. (she hasn't been renamed by her new owners yet).

Also, last night (Thursday night, if you're reading this on a day that isn't Friday), DG had a conversation with himself. Ceej and I left for the orchestra meeting and even said, "Bye" to him as we left. I called him about an hour later to ask if he'd make a swing so we could use it as the prize in the raffle for fundraising. He asked, "What about the birdhouses?" I told him those are for our kid alone and the swing raffle would help lower the overall cost for the parents of every kid. So he said he'd do it. We really don't have much else to offer up in the way of fundraising or volunteering. He can't do it, and I simply don't enjoy sitting in uncomfortable chairs without pain medication for hours on end. But I digress. You didn't come here to read about my whiny little rant about fundraising.

You came to watch these videos.



I don't think an intro is really all that necessary because the videos speak for themselves.

Quite literally...



In this one, though, we reference the movie "Undercover Blues" and the character who called himself "Muerte" which is "death". The Blues (Kathleen Turner and Dennis Quaid) called him "Morty".



This video is supposed to be about the puppy and not DG's chest hair.

"Y'all clean up your room!" (pics and video!)

As I mentioned, the puppies live in our kitchen till they're old enough to go home. That's because our kitchen is the warmest room in the house and it is also the only room with a tile floor that is easily blocked. And trust me... we need the tile. People think Chihuahuas are small and not very messy. Well, that's true. But when there's six of them, the mess is times-six. So much poo.

Even though the sweet puppies are in the kitchen, we still have to use the kitchen. Most times, that's not an issue, but first thing in the morning, well, let's just say it takes work. During the day we try to keep up. At the point when they go home, people ask me if I miss them. No. I do not. By the time they go home, I'm just so very tired of the poo.

But I digress. DG has conversations with the puppies. As if they're human. As if they're not babies. And as if they can do what he's ordering them to do.

Nearly daily, he says, "Y'all, clean up your room!"

And this is the response the puppies give him:



DG: "Don't look at me like that! You need to clean up your room!"

And the puppies' response:



DG: "Y'all think you're so cute, dontcha? Well, you're not as cute as you think you might be!"

And the puppies say:



DG: "Hey, you're supposed to pay attention to me. Don't ignore me! Oh, sure, just go to sleep. Be that way. You'll be laughing out of your face when you clean up this room."

Puppies? What do you have to say?



Now, as you can see, I took these photos all in a row. And the one absolute consistent was the single puppy sleeping in the center with his head resting on the edge of the bed. That would be Moose. The big white one that keeps moving around, that's Martini. The darker brown one to the left is Easton. There's a white one in the foreground with Moose, also sleeping. That would be little Eli. Eli eventually moved to get away from the flashy thing and was curled with little Wah-Lah!, and the other (larger) brown one in the back is Drake. I'm telling you their names because all but one has been re-named (that would be Wah-Lah! who is having someone come look at her tomorrow).

Of course, DG doesn't call them by their names. We named all the puppies till their owners re-named them. In the last litter Luna had, DG named them all different names- as in: Angel Eyes, Two Socks, Speedy Rodriquez, Brownie, and The Brain. So far, he hasn't named this litter- except Easton.

I promised that there would be video. And, here it is... these are short snippets of video and two of them are actually one long one broken in two parts. In one of those, I sound incredibly annoyed with DG. And I kind of am. More than once a day, he makes the same exact joke when he says, "Which one is this?"

I reply: "That's Easton."

He exclaims: "Sheena Easton!"

And I tell him yet again that her new owner is a coach and a teacher and she had her team name the pup- Easton, after a baseball bat.



Short discussion with the pups.



Part one- (DG spilled some chili he was reheating for lunch, which is what we're telling Luna to leave alone).



Part two-



And because I mentioned it in the above video, here's the video where Drake gets Easton pinned in the playpen.



There you have it... in the next few weeks, before the pups all go to their new homes, there will be more video and quite possibly longer conversations with the puppies. Because we all know how puppies always do what their told. As if they're human. As if they're not babies.